Hope Personified
by BrowncoatGrl
Summary: A new threat is upon the team of Angel Investigations: the First has come looking for a general to lead the armies of Hell. It wants Angelus. The only thing that stands in It’s way is a woman no one knows anything about. And if she fails, Angelus wins.
1. Prologue & Chapter 1

"_Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and does the impossible"  
__—_Anonymous

**Prologue – May 21st, 2003**

The young woman looked around her, feeling strange in the new scene. She missed being a god. She missed being something other than mortal. It was all so strange to her. This was all so strange to her. Los Angeles. The City of Angels.

She pulled the backpack around to her front and looked inside it. The five boxes were bound tight by leather and twine, the book secured by a leather clasp, ageless and priceless reminders of what she was here to do. They brought the comfort of knowing she wasn't completely alone. She would be taken care of if anything got out of control. And things would get out of control. That much her intuition told her.

She shifted her weight as she started walking. Her feet were tired. Forgetting what the real world was really like, she'd already run low on cash; food had been a luxury for the last few days and she could feel a numbing sensation in her stomach. She walked along from the bus stop and passed a small quick-mart. She looked in, seeing rows of food in colorful containers and bags. Her mouth became wet with hunger and her stomach yelled at her all the more. She reached into her jeans pocket and brought out the small wad of bills. Seeing the price tags from the street, she knew she didn't have enough. She had a square bit of plastic with her fake name and a row of numbers on it. Although she'd seen such an item as a child, she hadn't the slightest idea of what it was for or how to use it.

Continuing on, she ignored the rumble in her stomach. She chided herself for walking past a bar that had some sort of food cooking inside of it. The door open, the aromas wafted out to meet her starving nose. She walked quicker, keeping one hand on the strap of her backpack. She thought of where she could be. Of where she could be sleeping. Some arrangements hadn't been solidified in time. Her penthouse wasn't ready for her. It might not be for some time. So, she had nowhere to go. With her paper assets low, she would more or less be forced to remain on the street for the night. She saw an alley and a loading dock. It boasted a cardboard lean-to that she could use. Walking closer, her nose picked up another scent. It made her grateful she hadn't eaten anything at all.

She turned to walk away and bumped into a Bringer. The pale skin and scarred-over eyes startled her. She backed away. Another was behind her. One last Bringer came from the shadows to her left. They surrounded her. They wielded daggers with curved blades and bejeweled pommels. Their black robes blended in with the inky darkness surrounding her.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

He'd lost her. In his heart he'd always known something like this would happen. But he just didn't think it would happen like _this_. He'd known she'd eventually find another man but—he had been assured—it would actually be another _man. _

_But Spike?_

It made it sting all the more; of all the men on the earth, she had to choose him. She had to fall in with him. Okay—she didn't say she loved him but, then again, she didn't need to say it. It was kinda obvious. She cared about _him_ enough to push him away.

Angel looked at the Jack Daniels sitting in front of him and tossed it back quickly—the burn assuring him it wasn't all just a nightmare. He looked up at the clock over the barkeep's head and paid his tab. It was time to get back to reality.

He stood drearily and walked to the door, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk, with his hands in his pockets and not paying attention to those he passed—until he heard the distinct sound of landing punches.

He stopped, looked down the alley he was near, and saw the commotion that had caught his ear. He ran down the alley hoping to find something to take his attention off the matter playing on his mind. As he neared the fight, however, he paused. She was fighting Bringers. He remembered Bringers. He knew they were minions of the First. Buffy had won that battle. The Hellmouth had been closed. But the First obviously wasn't gone. It had just pulled back to regroup.

And the current regroup was attacking a redheaded, pale girl.

He could barely see her face when he rushed in to help. She ignored him and focused on the Bringers. With near inhuman speed and agility, the woman threw back two of her three attackers. They landed hard on the pavement and one of them grabbed her fallen bag. As she went to tackle that one, another came up behind her and stabbed her. She yelped. Angel threw a backhand swipe to the one that attacked her. They both fell. He threw himself at the one with her bag and grabbed it. The three Bringers took off, unwilling to face two opponents.

He turned to see the young woman laying half in and half out of shadow. He could see blood on her hand and her well formed bottom half. He could see the outline of her face. But with his well-adapted eyes, he could make out the features on her face. She looked German in build. She was lithe and muscular. With a body that could fit either a pro-athlete or a supermodel, she lay there, holding onto her bloody side.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't say anything, just looked at him. He saw her eyes go wide. They darted from his face to her bag.

He took a step towards her. She stood fitfully and backed into the shadow of the alley. He paused, holding out his hands in a gesture of innocence, "I'm not going to hurt you."

He could hear her panicked heartbeat. He could smell her blood as more of it seeped from her wound. It was weak, the scent. If it weren't for the breeze, he might not have smelled it at all. He took another step closer.

She backed away again.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"Just a scrape. I'll just take my bag and go."

"Come with me. I'll get that taken care of."

"My bag."

"We should get you patched up," he walked closer.

She ran. Startled at her speed, he hesitated. Then he followed. She ran up a fire escape ladder and to the next platform, taking it to the roof. He followed, unwilling to scale the wall or jump. If she was already so afraid, his demonic acrobatics would only give her more cause to run.

"Hey! I'm not gonna hurt you."

He saw her stumble when she hit the last rung before she pulled herself onto the roof. He continued after her, knowing she was more injured than she'd let on. The wound was still open. Some of her blood dripped near him. The rungs on the ladder had her bloody handprints on them. Drips of it collected on the grate at his feet.

He pulled himself onto the roof.

She was nowhere to be seen.

He ran to the other end of the building and looked down. There was a twenty-foot gap between this building and the next. And the drop was over forty feet. Even he would've hesitated to jump the gap. And in her condition, she wouldn't have made it. But there was no body down below. And her trail of blood ended midway across the roof.

He looked down at the bag in his hand. He pulled on the drawstring. Inside were a book and five small jewelry boxes. No wallet, no money, nothing.

He sighed.

* * *

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce stepped on a wadded up ball of paper. He looked down at his feet and saw the crumpled sheet was flattened under the pressure. Leaning over, he picked it up. Coming up, his eyes saw another one. A small cluster of them was centered around the reception counter. In the middle was Angel. Wesley opened the wad of paper to see a striking face. Her eyes were thin and almond shaped but her face was decidedly not oriental. Her cheekbones were high but not severe. Her nose was proportionate and had a little ski-jump at the end but it wasn't upturned. She appeared to be no more than twenty-five.

"Do I have to get out the tranquilizer gun?" he asked, walking in and laying his pack on the counter.

Angel sighed, "This isn't an obsession."

"Really?"

"She was attacked last night."

"Vampires?"

"Bringers."

"Bringers? Harbingers of the First?"

"One and the same. She was stabbed. When I tried to help her, she ran off. She left this behind."

He placed his hand on a small drawstring backpack. It looked old and mottled. The design was one Wesley didn't recognize. It had a logo on it with a company name.

"I've never heard of this company."

"I looked it up. It doesn't exist. Look inside."

Wesley opened up the bag to see a leather-bound book and five small boxes tied up with twine. He took them out and opened them. Each box had a little cut-stone animal. Not bigger than a silver dollar. They were each a different stone. And the book was blank. It was old; page bugs lay dead and pressed near the spine. The only thing he could see were the pictures. Daguerreotypes, for the most part. Some were woodblock prints. A few were sketches. He put it aside. Angel was still sketching her. He paused and ran his hand through his short hair. Wesley gave another glance at the small mound of papers.

"Why such concern?"

"If she was attacked by Bringers, it means she's a threat to the First."

"Someone we want to keep safe."

"Someone who doesn't want to be found."

"You couldn't trail her blood?"

"I tried. I chased her to a rooftop and when I got up there, she was gone. Her trail ended in the middle of the roof. Whatever she has for blood, it isn't normal. I couldn't track it. Couldn't smell it."

"Disturbing. In more ways than one. So? What do we do?"

"I want you to call hospitals. She has dark red hair. More mahogany than pure red. It looked wavy…about down to her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel. If she's checked into a hospital nearby, someone's bound to take notice of her."

"Where was she stabbed?"

"Right side of her waist."

"Good morning," Fred walked in, a smile on her face.

It started to disappear when she saw the crumpled balls of paper. Gunn walked in after her and paused as well. Wesley shrugged, "No. All's clear."

Angel rolled his eyes.

"Angel…what are you doing?" Fred looked at the multiple portraits.

"A girl was attacked last night."

Gunn picked up the latest sketch, "This girl?"

"Yeah. She didn't get away clean. We need to find her before they do."

"They?"

"Bringers. They work for the First," Wesley filled in, "Since the First is immaterial, it has harbingers to do It's bidding. They carry curved daggers with gold hilts and jewels in the pommel. Their eyes are scarred closed with runes."

"Nasty."

"That's why we have to find her first. Wesley's going to call hospitals. I want you two out on the streets. That is what she looks like. Mahogany hair and hazel eyes," he pointed to the picture Gunn had in his hand.

"Got it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hit the hot spots. See if anyone knows anything about what the First is trying to do. Maybe I'll find out why It wants to kill this girl."

Angel grabbed his leather coat and walked to the basement. The others watched him go. Fred and Gunn looked at the paper and Fred sighed.

"We're looking for one woman among what? Millions?"

"If the First wants this girl dead, we need to keep her alive. Alive and safe," Wesley sat where Angel had been, picking up the phone.

"I've got my cell. Call me if you get anything."

Wesley nodded, watching the two of them walk out. He picked up the phone book and flipped to the tab that read hospitals. After doing this routine so many times, Gunn had made a bookmark for the section. He kept his finger on the first number while dialing. The receptionist picked up. Wesley inhaled.

"Yes, I'm looking for my sister…she was injured last night and I've been trying to locate her…no, she's a runaway…she has red hair and hazel eyes…only twenty five…her real name is Sarah…she might go by a different one…has anyone—"

A blade pressed against his neck. He cut himself off. He couldn't see who was behind him.

"Put the phone down."

As the receptionist said an inquisitive hello, he put the phone back on the receiver. Although the blade was pressed against his neck, it wasn't pressed hard. And the voice was feminine, seductive, thick.

"So, what's your real name?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter. I just came to get my things."

"We weren't trying to steal from you."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem, should there?"

He started to turn to face her, "You don't have—"

The blade pressed harder against his neck, "Don't turn around. Just pack up my stuff and I'll be on my way."

"How did you find us?"

"Your friend with the spiky hair is easy on the eyes; he wasn't too hard to follow. Now, my things."

He started to reach over and she jerked the blade, "Ah-ah. Left hand."

He used his left hand to put the lids back on the boxes. One by one, he placed them in the bag gently. He closed the book and slid it into the bag as well. He gave a deliberate tug on the drawstring and it closed.

"Hold it behind you."

He held it out behind him by the opening. When she reached for it, he could feel the slippery skin on his. It was wet and warm.

"You're still bleeding."

She took the bag spasmodically.

"If you're injured, you should see a doctor."

"The only life that's your concern is your own."

"You're in danger."

"Who isn't?"

"Those men that attacked you last night will come after you again and if you're injured, you'll be easy prey. At least let me patch you up."

There was a pause, "Where's your first aid kit?"

"In the office on my right."

She put a bloody hand on his shoulder and kept him that far away from herself. The blade was still depressed against his neck, "Lead me to it."

"It's in the filing cabinet."

She let go of his shoulder, keeping the blade under his jawbone, and he kneeled to open the wooden cabinet that held stakes and first aid materials. He saw her boots. They were black leather with chunky, stacked heels. Her right one was covered in blood that had seeped down her leg. Her jeans were shades darker on the outside from the trail. He stood slowly. He felt the blade pull away. He turned slowly with the gauze and tape and peroxide in his hands. She'd let the sword drop to her side.

He got his first look at her. Angel's sketches were close. She was paler then he expected. The blood loss had taken a toll. Her mahogany hair was matted and her hazel eyes were alertly calm. They pierced his soul, made him question his ability to tend to her wound. His eyes ventured down to the cherry blotch in her shirt. She'd torn most of the fabric away to reveal a wide gash in her side. It wasn't deep, but long and oddly shaped; the shape kept it from clotting. And with the humidity and heat outside, it wouldn't dry any time soon.

"Take a seat," he gestured to the guest chair. She didn't sit, just leaned on the back of it. She kept the sword across her lap with her hand firmly on the hilt. He placed the peroxide to the side, wiping away some of the blood with the gauze. She winced.

"Sorry."

She didn't say anything. He dabbed more gauze into the peroxide before wiping the area clean. It bubbled. The blade had nearly taken a chunk of skin away from her torso. But the top and bottom of the wound was still attached to the rest of her. He pressed the wound together and put gauze over the top, taping it down.

He stood slowly and looked her in the eye, "You'll need stitches for it to heal completely."

"Thanks."

He noticed her; she wasn't twenty-five. She looked more like twenty. Closer to it, anyhow. He backed away. She stood with the sword still in hand.

"They'll keep hunting you."

"Don't get involved," she backed away from him towards the reception area and the basement door. Wes took a few steps closer, not wanting to let her out of his sight. Before she was out of reach of the counter, she laid the sword down. The bloody grip left drips on the marble, "Don't look for me."

"We don't want to hurt you."

"I know."

She turned and knocked into Angel. He held his hands up. She rebounded and grabbed the sword. Keeping her hand outstretched, she let the tip of the sword touch his Adam's apple.

Wesley took a step closer, unwilling to let her hurt Angel. Although, by the moment, she looked weaker. She looked less like a threat and more like a scared girl. Angel let his hands down, unflustered by the blade at his neck.

"Just let me go. I didn't ask for your help."

"They could've killed you."

"I can take care of myself."

"A bit cocky, don't you think?"

"Assured. I'm assured."

"We're trying to protect you."

She scoffed, "Do you even know from what?"

"Do you?" Wesley asked.

She kept her eyes on Angel, "I know what I have to."

"You're predictable. That'll get you killed."

"You knew I was here?"

"I knew you wouldn't try anything with everyone here."

"I just want to walk away."

Angel walked closer, the blade tip pressing into his neck, "You still can. Just rest. Get better. Let us figure out what's hunting you and why they want you dead. Please."

She tightened her grip on the sword and kept her pressure on his neck firm, "I appreciate you bailing me out last night, but you don't need to get involved."

"I am involved. And not just by you."

"Then you've already got enough on your plate without me."

She backed away from the two of them, the sword still out. She kept her grip tight on the drawstring bag. Angel didn't let the distance between them get too great. He followed after her. At the base of the front door stairs, she was in full sunlight. He couldn't follow past the second step. She paused and looked to Wesley.

"Thanks for the patch job."

"You need someone to stitch that wound up," Angel said.

Her face softened, "It won't be you."

She kept her eyes on them while hunching over to lay the sword down.

"Take it. It'll keep you safe."

In mid crouch, she hesitated. Switching her grip, she yanked it up and under, pressing the blade flush against her arm on the inside. She walked out. Angel wanted to go after her. He didn't want her to be out there alone, even in the day. But following her wouldn't make things better.

Wesley sighed, "Should I go after her?"

"No. Tonight. We'll look for her tonight."

"She could be dead by then."

"She's kept herself alive this long. Another twelve hours won't matter."

"How'd you know she was here?"

"I didn't."

Wesley eyed him.

Angel walked away to his office, "Call Fred and Gunn. They may be able to track her."

"That wound won't heal on its own."

"Us keeping her here wouldn't make it heal any faster."

He walked back out from the office with his forgotten cell phone in hand and started towards the basement door.

"Where are you going?"

"Original plan. I'll hit the hot spots. See if we can't figure out what the First is up to. Call the hospitals. Tell them to keep an eye out should she check in. If she does, tell them to call us."

"On it."

Angel walked out of view. Wesley picked up the phone again and dialed the number he'd dialed before. Waiting for the ring of the service desk, he switched stories in his head.

* * *

Angel strolled through the sewers. A shaft of light here and there was all he had to dodge. Since Caritas had blown up, there were only a few demon bars that would let him in. Most wanted nothing to do with him for the exact reason he was out. The only ones he knew of that would be open before dark were several miles south of the Hyperion. But they had sewer access and wouldn't bar him.

The young woman obviously had some idea who she was dealing with. He wondered if she knew the whole picture. Did she know how important she was if the First was after her? Or was she just evading a menace that she didn't know all that much about? Her clothes weren't much more than strips and shreds. She was paler than she'd been the night before. The blood loss had taken a toll. But it hadn't stopped her yet. That borderlined on admirable and supernatural.

He came to the ladder for the first bar. Climbing it, he knocked on the hatch. It opened and he saw the bouncer rolls his eyes when he got a glimpse of Angel's face.

"What do you want?"

Angel climbed the rest of the stairs and stood face to face with the brusque demon. With burnt-orange skin and horns lining the jaw, he made an impressive bouncer. Angel looked up at him.

"The usual."

"Not much of a crowd yet."

"I've got all day."

"What do you want to know? I can save you the time."

"The First. I want to know what It's doing."

The demon chuckled, "Planning on making Los Angeles a sinkhole, too? I heard about what your ex did. Pissed off a lot of locals."

"What can I say? She's a pistol."

He chuckled again and looked around at the few patrons in the main bar, "You wanna know about the First, huh?"

"I'll be out of your way."

"The new word on the street is that the First got a little hankering for revenge after what that Slayer did. Wants to wipe out as many pests like you as It can."

"Good to know. Have you heard anything about a girl?"

"What kind of girl?"

"Redhead. Just under six foot. Pale, too."

"A mosquito like you?"

"Human."

"Haven't heard a thing."

"And the Bringers; what are they up to?"

"They've been around. Staying mostly in the sewers. Don't know where."

"Thanks. Great help."

"Just keeping the best interests of the patrons in mind."

"Of course you are."

"Now, get lost."

"I'll be back," Angel swung his leg onto the sewer ladder and slid down, the hatch closed over his head.

He walked off, knowing of maybe one or two other bars that would have some more information than this. If there wasn't a word about the girl, it meant the bouncer either wanted her dead or didn't know about her. Neither option was helpful. The next bar was only a few more miles. It was more of a morning place for the vampires. Those that didn't sleep the day away would head to someplace safe for it.

He let his face change over. Bones crunched and morphed and the familiar feel of fangs against his tongue told him he had the proper attire. He climbed the ladder for this bar and opened the hatch himself. Letting it down behind him, he surveyed the packed booths, tables and barstools. He didn't see any familiar faces. Moving through the like-faced crowd of vampires, he sat at the bar. The barkeep was a punk vampire with a leather corset and pink streaks in her hair. She walked over to him with a smile and placed a napkin down for a coaster.

"What can I get you?"

"O positive."

She winked and walked away to get his drink. But he didn't really care about the drink. He just wanted an excuse to stay longer and eavesdrop. She put his drink in front of him and he paid her. Sitting there, he listened and scanned the drunken conversations. Most were about kills they'd made the night before. The group of vampires in the corner was talking about a girl, but she wasn't fitting the description he wanted.

The hatch opened again and a new vampire came up. This one was a burly biker. He walked over to the group in the corner. He handed out a picture. Angel couldn't see what was in it. Taking a sip of his drink, he heard the newly-arrived vampire say "she'd" changed.

"This what she looks like?"

"New and improved. I liked the blonde hair better, but red fits her."

"It'll look better when we crack her skull. Where's she at?"

"Just got into town last night. Bringers got to her. She's ripe."

So they were talking about the girl he was looking for. And she'd obviously changed her looks from one point in time to here.

"Abandoned building near Pan Pacific. She's holed up there with a nice souvenir from those freaks. Should be easy prey."

"Take her out and the summer won't be half bad after all."

"Forget the summer. Eternity."

"When?"

"Tonight. If the Bringers don't get to her first."

Angel drank the last of his blood and left the bar, walking towards the hatch in the back. A hand grabbed his elbow and he stopped.

"You think we're gonna let you get in the way?"

He turned to see the burly biker. The vampires were behind him, smiling at the odds. Angel sized them all up.

"I think you'll leave her alone. She's in my town. My protection."

"Take a look around, soul boy. You're in no position to protect anyone."

Angel threw the first blow. The biker stumbled back and into some buddies. They righted him and he charged. Angel ducked and he flew over top of him. Hitting a storage rack in the back room, he crumpled to the floor. Angel flicked his wrist and a spring-loaded stake popped out. He sank it into the biker's chest. He evaporated into dust. The others paused.

Not for long. Angel threw another punch at an oncoming vampire, landing it in the eye socket. He felt the bone crush under his knuckles. He grabbed onto a seat and threw it forward, ramming two vampires back. Taking the chair away and swinging with it, he let the backrest nail a vampire in the jaw.

Angel backed himself into a corner near the hatch, seeing more vampires willing to get into the mix. He held the stake in one hand and the chair in the other. One rushed him and he jabbed the stake into that sweet spot, the cloud of dust disappearing a moment later.

He made his way towards the exit as the others finally understood who they started fighting. He put the chair down and kept the stake palmed.

"Get the word out. No one goes near her."

They all shared glances. He backed away and lifted the hatch. Jumping down the hole, he closed it. He jammed his stake into the latch, keeping it closed.

* * *

Angel popped the hatch on his own sewer access ladder and climbed up into the basement of the Hyperion. Walking up the stairs to the lobby, he looked around to see Fred, Wesley and Gunn. They looked up at him as he walked over.

"Did you find her?" Fred asked.

"No. Found out where's she staying."

"Where?"

"An abandoned building by the Pan Pacific park. Should be easy to find."

"How'd you find that out?"

"Vampires talking about hitting it tonight. They were looking for a slaughter."

"They know who she is?" Wesley asked.

"They know. More than we do, at any rate."

"Why were they after her?" Fred asked.

"I don't know. They didn't say a name. But whoever she is, they don't want her around."

"That's good, right? That means she's not on their side," Gunn sat on the circular couch.

"Gunn, I want you and Wes to drive over there. Take a look at the buildings. If you see her, don't bother her. Just keep an eye out. I'll meet you there when the sun goes down. Fred, she left some blood on the counter. Can you see what's in it?"

"Of course."

"You mean, besides blood?"

"I can't smell it. I want to know what it is."

"We'll have our cell phones should something come up," Wesley walked towards the doors, Gunn following.

"I'll let you know."

The two of them walked out. Fred moved over to the stain on the counter. She looked up at him, "What are you going to do?"

He sighed, "Play the waiting game."

* * *

She watched the sun sink behind steel and concrete towers. Her side and head were throbbing. Her stomach was growling. The wound hadn't stopped bleeding. It was less now than before, but the gauze was damp. She wanted to pull her hair back and keep it off her shoulders and neck. It was too hot to have her hair down. But she couldn't. She didn't have anything to tie it up with. She eyed the sword he'd given her. It was well crafted. A prized weapon to anyone who knew anything about swords. She hobbled over to her makeshift bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. The rafters stuck out and cobwebs made her feel like trick-or-treating. The rickety building was the best she could do for the moment.

A floorboard creaked outside her room. She silently sat up and grabbed the sword.

* * *

Angel pulled up in his car, seeing Gunn's truck only a few spots down the road. He and Wesley climbed out of the truck and met him. Meeting at the trunk of his car, he handed out weapons and took a sword for himself.

"Anything?"

"Ain't anybody go in and out all day. It's all boarded up 'cept for a few windows."

"Vampires?"

"None. Did Fred find anything on the blood?"

"She's still working on it. She said it looked normal."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

Angel sighed and walked across the street. The guys followed. Climbing in through a window, he kept his sword out and ready. The floors creaked and the bricks in the wall were rotten and falling out of place. Walking out of the bedroom they'd entered into, they walked into the hallway. Angel opened each door, looking to see if she was behind one of them. At the end of the hall without success, he walked up the stairs. The same hallway a floor up, he stepped over a rotted section of wood. He opened doors on his left while Gunn looked in the rooms on the right.

"There's nobody here."

"I don't like this, Angel," Wesley kept a stake in his hand.

"You think those vamps were setting you up?" Gunn asked.

Angel opened a door and saw a makeshift cot and the bag. He shook his head, "No, she's here. We just have to find her."

He walked into the corner room. The floorboards protested the weight of the three of them. He looked around. The cot was a few stray floorboards put together to raise the bed. There wasn't a mattress, only a few mottled clothes and a towel. Her bag was put to the side, closed tight. Angel turned around once, knowing she was around.

"We're not here to hurt you. We just want to make sure you're okay."

There was no answer. He looked up at the rafters, in the darkest shadowy corners of the room, but she wasn't there.

"This girl could be the next Houdini."

He was kicked forward. Hitting the far wall, he felt the floor and it shift, bricks falling out of the cement. He turned on the ground to see her. She was hanging from exposed piping in the ceiling like a gymnast. She kicked both Wesley and Gunn back before landing. Using the sword he'd granted her, she held it out at them and picked up a stake he'd dropped. He stood within arm's reach. She flipped her wrist and changed her grip on the stake. She pointed it at his heart. He froze. He could feel the wooden tip press against his skin. Wesley and Gunn got to their feet slowly. They remained away when they saw his predicament.

With the sword aimed at neck level to them and the stake at his heart, she kept her face forward without looking directly at any of them. Her face was paler now. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead. Her bloodied gauze was coming loose. The tape wouldn't hold it between the humidity and the blood. Her lips were as white as her skin.

"We didn't come to hurt you."

"I heard you the first time."

"Hard to believe since you have weapons pointed at me and my friends."

"You should've let me alone."

"You're still bleeding."

"I've still got the weapons."

"I noticed," he winced as she emphasized her point.

"We want to help you," Wesley spoke up.

"Why?"

"Because you don't have to fight these guys alone."

"You don't know that."

"I know you're getting weaker by the minute. Vampires were planning to kill you. Bringers are still looking for you. You're a popular girl."

"My lucky day."

"Just let us help."

She straightened. He noticed her tensed hands before she swung the sword. She spun. He ducked. The sword landed in the torso of a Bringer. She gasped and held onto her side, the sword too heavy for her to wield without pain.

"A scout," she rasped, kicking the body off the blade.

She stumbled a bit. Angel went to stable her and she pushed him back, "Get out of here."

"I'm not leaving."

She brought the sword to his neck, "Get away."

"Not unless you're coming with us."

Gunn and Wesley spun to face the door as more Bringers trudged through the rickety hall. She kept the sword pointed at him and diverted her attention to the oncoming threat. She looked back at him.

"You have to go."

"No."

"You don't have a choice."

She kicked him again. He was forced backwards and heard glass shatter. There was no wall or floor to brace him. He felt the hard asphalt. Glass fell around him in shards. He coughed and looked back up. She'd kicked him out the damn window. It was only a twelve foot drop, but it was more than enough to hurt. He watched Wesley come to the window. Taking the rusted fire escape, he climbed out. Gunn wasn't far behind.

It shifted. Wesley and Gunn crashed down on each other after losing their grip on the rungs. The girl was nowhere to be seen. He walked over to them.

"Where is she?"

At that, she landed on top of him. The sword clattered on the asphalt not far away. He helped her up. She winced and yelped as her wound opened more. He braced her and this time she didn't have any strength to resist. She kept her bag secure against her chest. He picked up his sword and saw the Bringers in the window.

He heard a snarl to his left. The vampires he hadn't dusted in the bar stood there with rebar and planks of wood.

"This isn't good," he kept the girl at his side, wrapping an arm around her to keep her on her feet.

"Plan?"

He shifted her off his arm, "Gunn."

Gunn took her. Her eyes were welded shut against the pain. She didn't resist. The Bringers started coming out of the window like ants from a nest. One by one, they compounded the vampires already in the alley.

Angel knew the attack was coming. They were outnumbered four to twenty. And with her being so injured, she wouldn't be any help. The moment they got to her, it would be over.

She came up beside him. He stared at her. Gunn and Wesley stayed near.

"Make a run for the car," he said, knowing they were in no position to fight.

They darted. He stood for a moment, hanging back to give them the time they needed. He heard the engine fire up. The vampire closest to him took a swing with the rebar. He blocked it with the sword. The vampire that'd tried to swipe at him was shot down. An arrow stuck from his chest a moment before he turned to dust. Angel looked back and ran, seeing Wesley holding the crossbow from the trunk. Gunn started to drive away as Angel jumped into the backseat. He landed next to the girl. She was sunk into the seat, her hands at her wound. He moved her hands away and pressed his against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. She stared at him through pain-glazed eyes.

"You should've left me."

"No, you're with us now."

She clamped her teeth as he put more pressure on the wound. He looked to the front seat, "Gunn, hospital."

She yanked away a bit, "No, no hospital."

Wesley tore a strip of his shirt off to add onto the gauze, "You need stitches."

"I don't need a hospital. Just a nice shower and a needle and some thread. No hospital."

Gunn looked over his shoulder at Angel. Angel only nodded. Wesley tried to smile, "You never told me your real name."

Her face softened. Wesley watched her give in. She almost smiled.

"Hope. My name's Hope," she looked to Wes.

* * *

Angel let her walk on her own. The blood had slowed down a bit. Wesley opened the door for her. She looked around, saw Fred, and stayed there at the inside steps.

"Do you want us to show you to a room?" Angel asked.

She shook her head, "I'll be fine."

She walked off and up the stairs to the second floor. He heard a door close out of sight. As much as he didn't want her to go to bed without some sort of medical attention, she had already refused once. Fred walked up to him.

"That's her?"

"Yeah."

"Will she be alright?"

"We need to get that bleeding under control. She won't last much longer without stitches," Wesley spoke up.

"Let her be for now. It's late. We can check on her in the morning."

"You think it'll be safe? With all those creepy guys out to get her?"

"I'll keep an eye on her. You guys should go home. Get some rest. I have a feeling we'll need it."

They nodded. Gunn and Wesley walked out. Fred picked up her glasses and followed, stopping for a moment.

"I don't have anything on the blood yet. I can try more tomorrow."

"Okay. Thanks."

She smiled, "Night."

Angel stood there alone in his hotel. Fred had already moved to her new apartment. As had Gunn. Wesley was still in the same place. But with the imminent move to Wolfram & Hart, Gunn and Fred no longer stayed at the Hyperion. He almost missed it. Save for the young woman upstairs, he was alone.

* * *

Hope put her knapsack down on the bed. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. Running her hands under it, she saw her flesh come back. When the water ran clear, she turned it off, drying her hands on the clean parts of her clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror.

"He's not supposed to know who you are."

She turned to face her visitor, "He won't."

"And how will you keep it a secret?"

"I'll stay until he's convinced I can take care of myself. Then he won't know."

"Won't he?"

"It'll be a few days; I'll be healed by then."

"He won't let you go as easily as you think."

"He won't have a choice."

* * *

**A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 5, in case the date didn't give that away. Read and Review, please! More to come...there's actually a whole book, so...**


	2. Chapter 2

****

Chapter 2

Fred walked in with a pastry box in her hands. Gunn followed her in. Fred looked around, "Where is she?"

Angel stepped out of his office and stopped when he saw the box, "You brought doughnuts?"

"Why not? Everyone loves doughnuts."

He closed the manila folder he'd been looking through, "She's still upstairs."

"She okay?" Gunn sat at the counter.

"I checked on her during the night. She seemed okay."

Fred handed him the box with a large smile.

Angel nodded, "I'll go see if she's hungry."

He took the box of doughnuts in one hand and put the manila folder on the counter. Walking up the stairs, he peeked inside to see a vast assortment of jellied, sprinkled and glazed doughnuts. If they wouldn't taste like cardboard, he'd have one. He'd never had a doughnut. He'd had chocolate and cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip, but not doughnuts. He closed the lid and walked to the door Hope had closed earlier. It was out of view from the main atrium, but he knew which one it was. It was the only door on this floor that didn't squeak.

He opened it.

She was standing there.

Naked.

He almost dropped the doughnuts. She pulled the dusty covers from the bed and held them over herself. He looked down to the floor. She shifted, watching him. He backed a step away.

"I'm sorry."

"Knocking isn't a new concept."

"Yeah. I just wanted to bring you something to eat."

"Food?"

"Fred brought you doughnuts."

"You can just leave it there."

He put the box down on the floor and saw her bloody pile of clothes at his feet. He stood slowly, "Do you have any other clothes?"

"No."

"We can get you some…if you tell us what size you need."

"I'll manage."

"We really are trying to help."

"Why?"

"Because we can."

He turned to leave. When he did, she inhaled sharply, in pain. He paused, his back to her, "How is it?"

"It won't stop bleeding," she admitted.

He turned to face her fully, not caring that she still had the cover pressed against her front, "You're not human, are you?"

She eyed him, her jaw working.

"You've been bleeding for over twenty-four hours. A human would be dead by now. Best case scenario, passed out. You're neither."

She remained quiet, her eyes locked on to his. He softened, "Let me stitch it up."

"I'm still naked."

He looked to her clothes, "Then get dressed."

He turned his back to her. She shuffled closer, picking up the clothes on the floor. He waited patiently while she pulled them on. She sat on the bed.

"Okay."

He turned and sat behind her, seeing her wound up close for the first time. The blade had sliced through one side of her and had come out the other; unable to sever the sliver of skin, the blade had only left a gash from the bottom of her rib cage to her hipbone. It wasn't bleeding as bad as it was last night, but it hadn't stopped. He tried to press the sliver against the rest of her torso and she winced. It wouldn't stay.

"You'll have to come downstairs. The stitching materials are in my office."

She nodded and stood shakily. He steadied her and she pulled away. He brought his arms back, walking out the door. She followed. He led her down to the atrium and the others looked up to see her. She ignored them. Sitting backwards in his guest chair, she brought her folded arms atop her bent knees. He pulled the first aid kit back out. Stringing up a needle, he started the first stitch. She flinched.

He stayed behind her, watching her face tense with every stitch, "How much do you know about those guys that attacked you?"

"You first. You're the one who wants to keep me here."

"They're called Bringers. They work for the First."

"The First Evil."

"Yeah. These Bringers don't attack just anybody. If they're trying to get you, it means you're a threat."

"I guessed that."

"So, are you human?"

"Are you?" she turned her head to put him in her peripheral vision.

He paused, "No. I'm not. I'm…I'm a vampire. But I don't kill people."

"You're Angel."

"You know me?"

"The black on black on black gave it away. Makes you look thinner. Ow," she winced when he tightened a stitch too tightly, "I'm not saying you need to be thinner."

"Sorry. It doesn't bother you? Me not being human?"

"No."

"So? Are you? Human?"

She sighed, "I don't know."

"Are you a Slayer?"

She scoffed, "I wish. Maybe then I wouldn't need stitches."

He finished the one side. She flinched when he started the other side of the wound. She looked out the window of his office, "Are they human?"

He looked up to see his friends. He nodded, "Yeah."

"Is the British one okay?"

"Wesley? He's fine. I think we're all a lot more worried about you."

"You know you can't fight It," her voice was resigned, almost sepulchural.

He paused to look at her, "The First? Yeah. I know."

She turned her head more sharply, letting him see her face, "Then why try?"

"Because I don't like to see good people suffer."

"You think I'm a good person?"

"Nothing's told me otherwise."

He tied off the last stitch and placed a large gauze pad over the work, taping it down. He pressed on it gently, securing it. She brought her hand to it, feeling it.

"That should stop the bleeding."

She remained sitting, "Thank you."

"Whatever you've been through, you can trust us."

She stood slowly and turned to look at him, "All the same, I should probably get going."

"Stay. Just for a few days. Give us time to make it a little safer for you."

She considered him and nodded, "Okay."

He led her out to the atrium. Fred, Wes and Gunn stopped their conversation. She viewed them skeptically.

"These are my friends. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Winifred Burkle and Charles Gunn."

"Are you feeling any better?" Fred asked, stepping forward with a smile.

"Can't complain. I'm not dead."

"Did you get the doughnuts?"

"Yeah. They're in the room. Thanks."

"I just figured everyone likes doughnuts."

"Good choice."

"Do you have some spare clothes with you?" Wesley asked softly.

"No. Didn't pack any."

"I could take you out shopping," Fred volunteered.

"The two of you shouldn't go out by yourselves," Angel crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll go with 'em," Gunn spoke up.

Angel looked to Hope, "You feel up to it?"

She shifted, "Actually, I wanna eat my doughnuts. Maybe take a nap."

"Sure. You come down whenever you feel up to it."

She tried to smile, looked once to the group, then walked away. She trudged up the stairs slowly, her hand on her wounded side. Angel watched her go. Her damp hair was starting to curl and her bloodied clothes were almost dry. For a face so young, her eyes were old. They'd seen too much for someone her age. She'd had dealings with the metaphysical world and that meant she at least knew what she was facing. She knew she was in danger.

How long had she run? Had it just started or had she been running her whole life? She walked out of sight. He sighed.

"What do you make of her?" Wesley asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"She knows what's after her. She knew about me."

"That's a small blessing."

"You're pretty well known in L.A.. If she's been around, she's probably heard about you," Fred shrugged.

Angel shook his head, "She's not from L.A.."

"How do you know?" Gunn asked.

"She doesn't have an accent. That and she's really pale."

"Then where she from?"

"Almost sounds like she's from the east coast."

"This is a long way from home."

"Do you suppose she's been chased this far?"

"It's possible. She's obviously had dealings with Bringers before. And, her not having any personal belongings besides stone animals and a book tells me she's been running for a while."

"There's nothing else?"

"That's all her bag had in it. No wallet, no money, no clothes."

"Stone animals. What's up with that?"

He shrugged.

"So, we keep her safe from the Bringers; for how long?" Wesley asked.

"As long as it takes. If the First wants her that badly, we can't let her go. Especially now that she's injured."

"So what's the 411 on the First? How long has it been around?" Gunn asked.

"Forever," Wesley answered.

"It can take the shape of anyone who's died. Perfect copy."

"That's how It gets people to do what it wants? Guilt trip?"

"Guilt is a powerful motivator."

* * *

Hope felt a tear drain from her eye down her cheek. She let it run its course. Sitting on her bed, her book in her lap, she let herself feel remorse. She had the moment to feel it. She wanted to feel something besides anxiety. Something besides the physical pain.

Her mother's face stared up at her. Her picture was wedged in between two random pages. She touched the worn likeness. The edges were crumpled, the picture bent in several places; so much so that the color had been lost and white streaks followed the bend. She remembered that picture. It had been Christmas. Being as well off as they'd been, her mother never spoiled her. She remembered that gift. It had been a set of Legos with a princess castle. That was all she really got. That little set was in the background of the picture. Her and her mother sitting on the couch embracing was the main sight.

She sighed.

She didn't look like that child. Not at all. Times had changed her. She'd changed to get ahead. She would have forgotten what she looked like if it weren't for this picture.

More tears came.

She wiped them away hurriedly, unwilling to let them fall. She put the book aside and kept the wallet-sized photo in her hand. Curling up in the old bed, she looked at it. Her side hurt, but the picture made it okay. The doughnut box had been half-emptied and her stomach was satiated for the moment. But her heart hurt more than sugar-coated bread could heal. She sighed again, keeping the picture in view as she fell asleep.

* * *

Angel heard Wesley close one book, pick up another, and start the process over. The last few hours had been nothing but research. He wanted to know why Hope was so important. Wesley was the best one to find that out. He'd been through a few books already, but to no avail. The First didn't leave records of who It wanted to kill or why It wanted to kill them. Angel looked at the clock on his desk and put down the book he'd been looking through. Fred was on the computer checking for police records. If Hope had a family that was looking for her, Fred would find them. Gunn was reading a comic book.

He stood. Fred looked up, "Did you find anything?"

"No. You?"

"There's no Hope on record as missing. I've checked every state on the eastern seaboard and California. She's not reported as a missing person. At least not by the name Hope."

"What about her description?"

"Nope. There are other redheads missing, but they're either too short or have different color eyes. Was she wearing contacts?"

"No."

"Then she's not listed. I can check other states but…"

"No. Don't worry about it. What about the blood?"

"She's got normal blood as far as I can tell."

"That's no help."

Wesley walked over, "I'm afraid I haven't turned up much myself."

"But you did get something?"

"Bits and pieces. The Bringers' _modus operandi_, the accounts of previous victims, but nothing definitive. I've still a few books to peruse, however: Rhinehardt's Compendium and the Tech'ra'jin especially. Something may yet turn up."

Fred rubbed her eyes and peered at the clock on the computer, "It's been a few hours. Should we go check on her?"

Angel nodded, "Yeah. I'll see if she's up to going."

He left the others there and walked up the stairs to his room. He got some money from his nightstand and rummaged through his closet. Finding the smallest shirt and pants he could, he folded them up over his arm. He walked back down to Hope's room. He cracked the door open first. Peering in, he saw her asleep. She was still in her dirty clothes and curled up in a fetal position. She had something in her hand. Walking in silently, he took a look at the picture. He couldn't see anything for her hand in the way. But the way she was clutching it told him something.

He eyed her. She was impeccable. Even for all the blood and gore and stitches, she was beautiful. He set the clothes he'd brought aside.

He said her name softly. She stirred and looked up. She saw him and sat up slowly. She put the picture away without him being able to see it. She held onto her side for a moment before swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"What time is it?"

"Almost four. You've been sleeping for a few hours."

"Thanks. I needed it."

He cast a stray glance at the doughnut box. Out of the dozen doughnuts, only a few were left, "Hungry?"

She almost smiled, "It had been a few days, yeah."

"Gunn and Fred can take you out to get some clothes if you want."

"I appreciate the offer, but I really don't have any money."

He handed her the wad of bills, "It's on me."

She noticed the large denominations and counted quickly. She looked back up at him, "This is too generous."

"Not like I can spend it on anything. Besides, this is L.A.. That might buy you one outfit. I also brought you something to change into. Walking around in bloody clothes would attract attention."

He started to leave.

"Angel."

He turned to face her.

"Thank you."

He nodded and walked back downstairs. Fred peered over the top of her glasses, "How is she?"

"Awake. She'll probably be down in a few minutes."

As if on cue, she walked into view. Her hair had been pulled into a loose and low ponytail and some of the wavy strands framed her face. She had on his clothes. His one pair of khaki pants and a dark blue button down shirt were baggy on her. Her hips rounded out his pants, but they fit her because of it. She'd rolled the sleeves and left the top few buttons undone.

"Are those…?" Fred started.

"I didn't think she'd be comfortable walking around in bloody clothes," he walked out from behind the counter, "Hey. I'm glad they fit."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Ready to shop?" Gunn asked.

She nodded.

Fred and Gunn walked up to her. Fred looked to him and Wes, "We'll be back later."

The three of them walked out. Angel watched them go. Hope was still holding onto her waist where the wound was. And, for all her distrust earlier, she cast a glance over her shoulder at him with grateful eyes.

"That was generous of you," Wesley noted, sitting back down at his books.

"Hopefully she'll realize she doesn't have to fight this alone."

"And when she does?"

"She'll go her own way."

"Angel, if she's so important as to attract the attention of the First, she'll never be safe. She'll never be able to stop running."

He sighed, "She doesn't need to know that right now. And if she has been running all this time, she's used to it."

"It's no life."

"And what? Staying cooped up with us is? We face down death every day. The least we can do for her is figure out why she was attacked. Maybe that'll be enough."

Wesley stared at him, "Angel, are we looking out for her because the First wants to kill her or because you weren't able to protect someone else?"

Angel stared back at him.

* * *

Hope eyed the total at the cash register and smiled, taking out the money she'd kept in her pocket. Seeing others using the bit of plastic, she soon realized what it was for and what she could do with it. Cash or not, she wouldn't go hungry anymore. Smiling at her clothes as they were handed to her in a bag, she peered in to make sure everything was there.

"Wanna get something for dinner?" Fred asked, knowing it was getting close to dark outside.

Hope nodded, "Sure. Wendy's?" she asked.

"Works for me."

They carried the large bags down the grandiose halls of the mall, making their way towards the food court. Gunn trailed behind them.

"So, how long have you guys known Angel?"

"A few years," Gunn answered.

"How'd you meet him?"

"He rescued me from an alternate dimension."

"He helped out my crew."

Walking by a sporting goods display, she peered into her bag again, grateful to have some new clothes.

"So, where did you live before you came to Los Angeles?" Fred asked.

"A bit of everywhere."

"Have you always been chased? By these Bringers?"

Hope shrugged, "Not always. But it's always been something."

"How long?" Gunn came up on the other side of her.

"Since I was a teenager."

"And how old are you?"

She paused and her brow furrowed, "I lost track."

Gunn and Fred shared a glance, "You don't know how old you are?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I stopped keeping track after…after my mom died. It just didn't seem important anymore."

She heard a scream.

She turned her head to see a foursome of black-robed individuals tearing up the other end of the food court, their eyes sealed shut by runic scars; they held bejeweled curved daggers. Bringers.

"This can't be good," Fred said, backing up slightly.

"I agree. Especially when they're heading for us," Hope quickly took in her surroundings, knowing a fight was imminent.

"Can you fight?" Gunn asked, keeping his eyes on the advancing Bringers.

"I think we're better off running like everyone else," Fred said unsurely.

"They'll chase us if we do," Hope said.

Hope tossed her bags aside and grabbed a driver from the golf display they'd just passed. Using her left hand and unwilling to twist the right side of her body, she swung. The first Bringer spun as the titanium driver mashed into his face. Gunn picked up a baseball bat. With the driver pressed against the inside of her arm and her hand halfway down the shaft, she let the clubface hit the downed Bringer again. She felt the club crack the skull. She kept her right arm pressed against her wound, feeling the stitches yelling at her.

Gunn took down the Bringer behind her. She ducked and he swung at the Bringer coming up on the other side of her. He fell at her feet and she smashed the driver into his ribcage. The broad face of the golf club cracked several ribs. She pulled the driver up and blocked a blow by the last Bringer. She was forced down. Fred hit him from behind with another golf club. He almost fell on top of her.

Hope stood with Gunn's help and threw the driver aside. She looked at the four downed Bringers. Picking up her bag, she winced. Her wound was yelling at her for the motion.

"We should get out of here," Fred said.

"I like that idea."

"Before the police come," Gunn added, putting his hand on Fred's back to get her moving.

Hope kept up, leaving the scene with them.

* * *

Angel heard Gunn's truck pull up. He put aside the book he'd been reading and walked out from his office. The front double doors opened and the three of them walked in. Gunn had a cut on his arm and Hope and Fred looked a little worse for wear. Hope was holding onto her wounded side. Still wearing his clothes, she carried a bagful in her left hand.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Rough mall."

"Bringers."

"There was another attack?" Wesley picked his head up out of his book.

Gunn nodded, "Yeah. Four of 'em."

Hope walked past Angel and set her bag on the circular couch. She sat down next to it. Angel looked at her and then at Fred and Gunn.

"You guys okay?"

"Dandy," Fred tried to smile.

Gunn only nodded. Angel looked to Hope, "Hope?"

"Those Bringers came because of me. Keeping me around is making all of you a target."

"That's not your fault," Fred said eagerly.

Hope stared at her disbelievingly.

"Once we figure out what the First wants—"

"What? You'll just keep getting attacked because of me? It wants me dead. Whether I stay with you or leave, they'll keep hunting me. Best if I just go so you don't get caught in the crossfire."

"You're in no condition to fight them by yourself."

"And you're in no condition to tell me what to do."

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, "Just stay. At least here there's strength in numbers."

"Your numbers include one vampire with a soul and three humans. That's not enough to stop the First."

"Maybe not. But it's enough to keep you from getting killed."

She stood with her bag in tow, "You can't keep me from leaving."

"I can keep you from getting killed."

He watched her face soften. She looked awkwardly at her bag and then started towards the stairs. Taking her leave of the crowd, she closed herself in her room.

Gunn sat on the steps, "She's right, man. We can't stop her from being hunted."

"No, we can't. But that doesn't mean she should be alone. Just to be safe, you guys should stay here for the night. At least until we know more."

Fred nodded, "I think I'll go to bed. Long day and all."

The guys said goodnight and watched her go. She walked across the atrium to the other set of stairs. Moving to her old room, Angel watched Gunn's face. He wanted to go after her. But they'd stopped staying in the same room since Angelus had stirred up dormant troubles.

"I think I'll go get cleaned up," Gunn said finally, looking at the cut on his arm, "I'll see you guys in the morning."

Angel moved back to the counter and picked up a random book, flipping through it. He looked to Wesley, "You calling it a night?"

He shook his head, "I think I'll stay up for a while. See if these books can't uncover any secrets. You?"

"I think I'll look at some of the books in my room. You'll be okay down here?"

"Safe as houses."

"Okay. Goodnight."

He walked slowly, pained, up to his room and couldn't help but realize just how lonely the hotel felt. He knew he would be leaving it. He knew they would be making the move to Wolfram & Hart, but it still had the echoes of more fortunate times in it. And that was what made it so lonely now. Cordelia was gone...Connor was gone and unmissed by Wesley and the others...he had no one to grieve with. Even if his son was with a better family and leading a happier life, Angel knew he could never be a part of that life. Never. And Cordy...she was still in a coma and no closer to coming out of it.

He paused at Hope's door. He didn't hear anything on the other side and continued walking. He opened the door to his room, looked around, and missed the crib that Connor had once laid in. Moving towards his own bookshelf, he pulled out a few volumes. Although he had no clue as to what he could do to help Hope's situation, he still wanted to be ahead of it. Putting the books down on his desk, he opened the first one.

* * *

Wesley looked up when he heard footsteps. Seeing Hope coming down the stairs, he relaxed. She had folded clothes in her hand and she was wearing a pair of pajamas. She walked over to him and laid the clothes on the counter. She sat in a chair gingerly.

"I didn't know if he wanted these back."

"I'm sure he will."

"I never apologized…for holding you at sword point."

"Unnecessary."

"Why does he want to help me so bad?"

"It's what he does."

"And you guys? You just follow the leader?"

"We trust him."

"I'll always be hunted. If not by the First, then by something else."

"It seems likely, given the affinity the First has. Any clue as to why?"

"Dozens. But nothing that'll change anything."

"You seem to take care of yourself well."

"I've had a bit of practice."

The coffee pot behind them started dripping. He saw her puzzled face when the water came out clear. He smiled, "I was making water for tea. Care to join me?"

"What kind?"

He reached under the counter and pulled out a wicker basket gift set. She smiled and pulled out a raspberry blend. He put the basket back and took out another mug, putting her teabag in it. The water stopped dripping and he poured them each a cup. Handing hers over, she cupped it in her palms.

"Thanks."

"Helps at the end of the day."

"I usually employ Jack Daniels. But to each his own."

"I don't have Jack Daniels but I do have scotch."

She shook her head, "No. Tea's fine."

* * *

Angel's door opened and Hope walked in.

"Hope?" he asked, slightly confused and suddenly embarrassed at his reaction.

She smiled warmly and made her way over to him, turning him in his chair and running a hand across his chest and behind his shirt.

"What're you—" he was cut off as Hope's lips touched his. And, with a start, he realized he couldn't resist her kiss, her touch. He wrapped his arms around her back, feeling the silk pajamas wrinkle from his touch.

Hope sat on his lap, her warmth from her skin coming through the pajamas, making him crave what he knew he shouldn't have.

He felt her kiss move down to his jaw line and he let himself give in, her touch too pleasing, her kiss too sensuous to give up. He reached to the front of her and pulled her loosely collared shirt off her, her lips leaving his skin for the moment he did.

They kissed again and her felt her soft skin touch his chest, tantalizing him.

His face changed and he didn't think twice before he sank his fangs into her supple neck. He could feel the warm blood fill his mouth, sending waves of passion and hunger through him.

Angel woke up, panting and feeling sweat cover him. He swallowed, the dream too real for comfort. He licked his lips, still feeling as if the blood were there—

It was.

He put his fingers to his lips and the inside of his mouth. Upon looking at them, he saw in horror that they were covered in blood. Warm, fresh, and tantalizing blood.

He left his desk and ran out of his room, down the stairs, suddenly afraid for Hope's life and knowing he could very well have been an instrument for her demise. He opened her door to see her not in her room. He continued on down to the atrium. She was sitting at the counter with Wesley, drinking.

Wesley noticed him. Hope followed his gaze.

"Angel? What's wrong?" Wesley asked.

Angel calmed himself, "Nothing. I just thought I heard something."

"It's been quiet down here."

Angel nodded, his eyes still focusing on Hope, "Good. Okay."

He left the balcony, walking back to the staircase. He'd more than just dreamed it, he'd felt it. He'd felt her skin. He'd tasted her blood. But she was fine and it was nothing more than a dream. He walked back into his room, seeing it for all its emptiness.

There was a knock on his door.

He turned to see Hope. She had his folded clothes in her hand. Her pajamas weren't silk, but they still hugged her curves.

"Hey," she tried to smile.

"Hey."

"I brought your clothes back. Thanks. And here's the change."

He took the pile with the few stray bills and coins atop it, "You like what you bought?"

"Yeah. Nicer than what I'm used to. Again, thanks."

"Not a problem."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed kinda flustered when you came downstairs."

"I was worried about Wes. I didn't know you were down there with him."

"Yeah. He made me tea."

"You should get some rest."

She accepted that, "You, too."

"Goodnight."

She almost smiled and walked out, leaving him there. He could hear her light footsteps as she wandered down the hall. With his clothes in his hand, he walked to his bedroom. He put them aside. Looking back at his desk and the opened books, he climbed into his inviting bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Angel walked down the stairs to see Hope sitting at the counter. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight tee. Her wavy hair was loosely pulled back. She'd found or bought orange juice and some doughnuts. The others were nowhere to be seen. It was only eight-thirty or so. They would be out soon. She turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"Morning."

"Morning. Didn't think you'd be up so early," he admitted.

"I like watching the sunrise."

"I would but it's hazardous to my health."

She smiled and took another bite of raspberry-jelly-filled doughnut. She'd gotten a newspaper, too. He walked around to the other side of the counter and reached into the minifridge. He pulled out a container of blood and poured himself a mug. Putting the container back in, he went to take a sip. Hope was watching him. He lowered the glass.

"Sorry."

She realized she was staring, "No, it doesn't bother me. Sorry."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Positive. Go ahead."

He took a sip. She ignored it and went back to the headlines on the paper. He sat across from her and took another sip of his breakfast.

"You have the sports section?"

She looked up at that, "You read the sports section?"

"Might as well."

"Sure," she searched through the paper and pulled out his section.

He put it in front of him, reading it mindlessly, "How's your side?"

"Better. I went out and got some painkillers this morning. They work wonders."

"So, why doesn't it bother you?"

"I don't know. I've seen a lot worse, I guess."

He played with the outside of his mug, "Have you ever…"

"Been bit? Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Don't worry about it."

"No, it wasn't my place."

"You probably saved my life; you've put clothes on my back and your friends in danger…and you don't even know me. You have a right."

"How long have you known about demons?"

"My whole life. Another reason it doesn't bother me."

The back set of double doors opened and Lorne walked in. Hope's eyes went wide with surprise and she stopped in mid bite. Lorne saw her and smiled awkwardly.

"Hi…" he trailed off.

Hope let her bite go, "I take it you're one of the good guys."

Lorne looked between her and Angel. Angel nodded.

"Oh, there's no way to talk my way out of this one."

"It's okay, Lorne. No need," Angel allowed.

"And I take it you know him."

Lorne walked over and outstretched his hand, "Lorne. And who might you be?"

She took it, "Hope."

"Ah, beautiful. And what brings such a siren to our front step?"

Hope smiled, "I was attacked. Angel helped me out."

Lorne nodded, "Oh did he? Well, I'm not surprised. He's our hero sandwich."

Hope restrained her impulse to laugh aloud, "Foot long?"

Angel rolled his eyes and walked into his office. Hope and Lorne shared a glance. Lorne made an exaggerated frown, "I think you embarrassed him."

Hope shook her head, "I got doughnuts and orange juice. If you eat them."

Lorne reached for one, "Don't mind if I do."

Fred walked down the stairs and smiled tiredly when she saw Lorne and Hope sitting there. Her smile widened when she saw the doughnuts.

"Morning."

Hope smiled, "Morning."

"Good morning, sugar plum. How are you doing?"

"I'm glad the sun came up. I like it when it's sunny outside. Things don't seem so bad," she plopped onto a barstool next to Hope.

"Things are bad? What did I miss?"

"Bringers. They've been trying to get Hope."

"That's some mighty mojo you've got chasing you."

Hope's eyes widened and she pushed Fred down to the floor, falling with her from her seat. A sword landed in the middle of the doughnuts box.

"Angel!"

Looking up, she saw him jump over the counter. Lorne backpedaled to get away from the Bringer's sword. Angel tackled him. They fell to the ground and Angel was the first up. Hope pushed Fred against the counter base and darted towards the display of weapons in the cabinet. She could feel a stitch pop. She ignored it. Opening the cabinet, she took out a broadsword and threw it.

"Angel!"

He caught it. He blocked the blow from the Bringer. Hope reached in for another weapon and was kicked away from the cabinet. She could hear Fred yell for Gunn. The Bringer hovering over her kicked her in her side, popping more stitches. She threw one foot up and her heel hit his nose. She tried to get back to her feet but was slower this time, blood soaking her shirt. She finally got a weapon in her hand, using it to block the attack that came at her. But she wasn't fast enough.

Angel turned to see her backhanded. She was forced through the glass cabinet doors. The Bringer pulled her back by the nape of her neck and threw her to the ground. She hit her head on the base of the stairs. His diverted attention let the Bringer attacking him get a hit in. He felt cold steel run across his chest. He turned and threw his weight behind a blow, using the pommel of the sword as a second knuckle. When the Bringer fell, Angel brought his sword down. It displaced a good part of one shoulder and the head and neck.

He threw himself at the Bringer readying to land the same blow to Hope. He saw Gunn and Wesley out of the corner of his eye. Gunn went to Fred's side, kicking away another Bringer. Wesley reached under the counter and pulled out his handguns. Taking each gun in hand, he fired off two rounds at once, hitting the Bringer bearing down on Gunn and Fred. He fired another set of rounds at the Bringer coming up behind Angel. The vampire landed his sword into the gut of the Bringer, twisting it before pulling it out. The Bringer sank to his knees.

Gunn stood and yanked the chair next to him, hitting the last Bringer. He hit the ground on his back and Wesley fired a round into his skull.

Lorne stood and surveyed the damage. Five black-robed bodies lay bleeding. And Hope was immobile at the stairs, her blood flowing down them like a cascading waterfall. Angel pushed the Bringer he'd impaled away and pulled Hope up into his arms. Glass had cut her forehead from the middle to her temple. And the hit on the corner of the stairs had only made it worse. Her wound had reopened and was bleeding enough to soak through her shirt in spots. Her head lolled from side to side as Angel tried to wake her.

Fred was the first one over, "Is she okay?"

"She's alive."

"She needs to get to a hospital."

"We can't protect her in a hospital. These Bringers are relentless," Wesley pointed out.

"We can't not take her," Fred argued.

"She just got knocked out. The cut isn't deep," Angel said. He picked her up and looked at Fred, "Help me clean her up."

Fred sighed and took out the first aid kit again while Angel started taking Hope to her room. Her blood dripped across the atrium as he carried her, soaking his shirt in the process. Fred followed him up a moment later. Angel laid her down, pulling hair away from the cut on her forehead. He started wiping the blood away, grateful the glass hadn't sliced down to the bone. When the blood was cleaned away, he put gauze over the slice, taping it down.

Fred was dabbing up the blood around the stitches that had been popped. For the profuse bleeding down in the atrium, the damage wasn't as severe as it could've been. Fred sighed.

"How many more attacks can she deal with?"

"They haven't gotten her yet. Keep an eye on her. I'll see what we can't figure out."

Fred nodded, still cleaning the last few stitches.

Angel walked downstairs, the Bringer's bodies still bleeding out. He stepped over the one at the base of the stairs and looked to Gunn, Wesley and Lorne.

"You guys all right?"

"Nice way to start the morning," Gunn was eating a doughnut.

"We can't keep this up much longer," Wesley sat next to Gunn.

Angel walked back to the Bringer he'd stepped over. He stared at the body.

"The First doesn't attack random nobodies. Have we at least got a clue as to why it wants to kill that beautiful child?" Lorne asked.

"Since when does blood glow?"

They all stared at Angel. He had his arms over his chest and he was staring at the Bringer. The three of them walked over and followed his downward gaze. Hope's blood had flowed down the stairs and had mixed with the Bringer's as he lay dead and disemboweled. The combination of the two bloods had created a shimmering glow where they mixed.

"That's from Hope?"

Angel nodded and got down on his haunches, touching it. It was still warm. He rubbed it against his fingers, seeing if anything came of it. He wiped it off on the robe of the Bringer.

"I've seen that somewhere," Wesley walked back to the counter and rummaged through his books from the night before.

"You read about glowing blood? What else do those things have in them?" Gunn asked.

Wesley opened Rhinehardt's Compendium and flipped around the pages, looking for what he remembered. His face lit up.

"Glowing blood; this is it."

"What does it say?" Angel sat across from him, still feeling the warmth from his fingertips where he'd touched the blood.

"It's about a poison. It references the Bringers and a mystical creature known as the Young One. Their blood, when mixed, is known to create…Killer of the Dead."

Angel's eyes perked up and he looked at his fingertips. Gunn shrugged his shoulders, "What? Some kind of mystical rat poison?"

"It's made to kill vampires," Angel said hauntingly.

Wesley shared a glance with Gunn and Lorne, "The only…the only cure is to drink the blood of a Slayer. Before Faith was…imprisoned, she tried to kill Angel."

"So, there's a history."

Angel shifted, "We know about the Bringers. What about the Young One. Who is that?"

Wesley flipped through several sections in the book. Slowing down to find the reference, he scanned the pages.

"Here it is…the Young One is a mystical creature who is a member of the Powers: The Power that Was, the Power that Is, and the Powers that Be. The individual Powers represent the past, present and future salvation of humanity. The Power that Was, also known as the Old One, is the archetype for most monotheistic religions. The Power that Is, also known as the Young One, is a physical extension of the Powers. The Powers that Be are both her guardians and her successors."

They were all quiet for a moment. Lorne was the first to say anything, "So that girl is a god?"

"It would appear so."

"But ain't gods supposed to be all powerful? Aside from some handy fighting skills, she's not impressing anybody."

"What else does it say?"

"There's an explanation."

"For her condition?"

"Yes. The Young One has taken many mortal forms and names but is rarely seen. In many cases, she is known to remain immaterial. Upon assuming human form, her abilities fail to transition seamlessly."

"So there's a lag time between becoming corporeal and getting her powers."

"That seems to be the case. And if she made the transition recently, her powers wouldn't surface for a certain amount of time."

"Is that our copy or Lilah's?"

"Lilah's. Which would explain why someone like her isn't documented in any other texts we have."

Angel considered that. Lilah's copy of the Compendium had been brought in from another dimension. Their copy hadn't been. And the same problem they'd run into with the Beast was evidently that situation they faced with Hope.

"What else it say about her?"

Wesley continued to scan the pages for anything useful. He paused, read a sentence twice, and looked up, "Not only is she a god, she's considered a messiah. She's the perfect opposite of the First. As everything evil originates from It…"

"She's the source of everything pure," Angel finished, "Which gives us the reason why It's after her. If It can kill her now, before she gets her powers, It wins."

"Is she the only thing that can make the blood go all shiny?"

"Yes."

"So we know it's her, then. She's the Young One. And she's sleeping upstairs."

Lorne whistled, "Angel Cakes, how'd you manage to score this one? A god owes you her life."

"What should we do when she wakes up?"

Gunn stood, "I say we send her on her way."

They all stared at him.

"Gunn, this young woman is a god. A god who's being targeted by the First and has no power to defend herself. We can't just send her on her way," Wesley reiterated.

"If the First really wanted to get her, It could've sent more Bringers. And she's right. Keeping her here is making us a target. We don't know what her agenda is. We don't know if that book is up to date. For all we know, she's switched sides."

"I don't think so," Angel said, his gaze still inward, "When we were in that alley, she was afraid. She was afraid for her life. That kind of terror can't be faked, no matter who you are."

"So what do we do when she wakes up?" Lorne asked.

"Talk to her. See how much longer she needs protection. And no matter how long it is, we'll do just that."

"Protecting a god? That's a large responsibility."

"That book says she's the reason we're fighting. That means she's worth protecting."

"And when she's not unaided?"

"That's up to her."

"Someone should tell Freddicans."

"I'll go. I'll keep an eye on Hope until she wakes up. See what else you can find on her. I want some idea of what she's capable of."

* * *

Angel stood on the threshold of Hope's door, watching her. Fred was finished tending to the reopened wound. He walked closer and Fred turned when the floorboard beneath his feet creaked. She smiled warmly.

"Hey."

"Hey. How is she?"

Fred's eyebrows rose up, "You should see this."

He came closer and leaned over. Fred removed the gauze on Hope's forehead. The cut that had been as long as his hand was now the length of his pinky finger. He found he wasn't surprised. She pressed the gauze back down and looked to him.

"I'll look after her."

"You don't look all that surprised."

"We figured out what she is."

"And?"

"She's a god."

Fred looked at her, then back at Angel.

"The guys can fill you in downstairs. I'm gonna keep an eye on her."

Fred nodded wordlessly, walking out. Angel sat in the chair across from Hope's bed. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching her as she slept. They'd neglected to pull the covers over her before. He leaned out of the seat and pulled them up. They'd been kicked to the bottom of the bed the night before. Laying the blanket securely up to her chin, he sat back down.

She stirred. He straightened, hoping she would wake up. Her eyes opened and they appeared unfocused for a moment. Her gaze was inward, trying to understand what had happened. She focused on him. She reached up to her forehead and winced.

"Is everyone else okay?"

He nodded, "Yeah. They're fine."

"I told you to let me go," she sat up slowly, resting against the backboard.

"Why? So when your powers surfaced we wouldn't figure out what you were?"

She stared at him blankly.

"Some of your blood mixed with the Bringers. Made it glow. Wesley's books tell us only the Young One's blood can do that. Also told us what the Young One is."

"How'd you—"

"Out of dimension copy. It had you in it."

She looked down at some irregularity in the blanket.

"We know what you are. We know why the First wants to kill you. What I don't know is why you didn't tell us."

"You weren't supposed to know."

"Why?"

She sighed, "Warriors on our side need to believe in something. They also need to believe that they're in control. That they can win the war on their own. If they see me helping them, they'll lose faith in themselves."

"So you work behind the scenes."

"Divine intervention, little miracles here and there, but nothing obvious."

"Is that why you came to Los Angeles? Divine intervention?"

She remained quiet for a moment, "I came here to protect you."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"From the First?"

She nodded. He sighed, "How much longer until you get your powers?"

"Two days. Maybe three."

"I'll do whatever I have to to keep you safe. But I want to know everything."

"I can tell you what you need to know. Not everything."

"Everything."

Her eyes were haunting, "You don't want to know everything."

He stood from the seat, "Come downstairs whenever you feel up to it," he started to walk out.

"You're more curious now than you were before, aren't you?"

He stopped.

"About me. I know there was a reason you were flustered last night. I could find why out easily. But it'd be nicer if you just told me."

He turned to face her and leaned against the door frame, "I had a dream."

"Good or bad?"

He paused. Did he tell her everything? Or just the part that had him concerned?

"Bad."

"What happened?"

"I bit you."

"Are you afraid it might happen for real?"

"I don't have the best track record."

"As a friend, I say I trust you. As the Young One, I say the First might be playing with you. Making you doubt yourself. Either way, I don't consider you an enemy."

"It's done it before. Almost got me to kill myself."

"Buffy saved you."

"It was still right."

She sighed, "It didn't bring you back from Hell, Angel."

He straightened, "Did you?"

She almost smiled, "I couldn't let my champion rot in there. Nor could I let you kill yourself. You're too important."

"You made it snow?"

"I did."

"Divine intervention, huh?"

"I do what I can."

He nodded, "We'll be downstairs."

Leaving her there, he felt some huge weight lifted from his shoulders. The First hadn't brought him back. It had plagued him. Made him wonder about what role he was to play. The First had claimed that all he was good for was pain and death. Now someone else was telling him different. And she'd called him a champion.

* * *

Hope sat there, watching Angel leave. With her knees to her chest and her back against the headboard, she sat motionless. She started to move towards the edge of the bed for her knapsack. But she didn't have to. He'd already come. In mid-reach, she smiled.

She sat back on her haunches and looked at the Old One.

"You're healing," He noticed.

"So I am."

"They weren't supposed to know about you."

"We can't do anything about it now."

"No. Only now the question becomes what do you tell them?"

"I should tell them what they want to know. It might make things easier."

"For them or for you?"

She remained silent.

He stood there, His paternal glare strong enough to make her cringe on the inside, "Young One, I know you care about them. As you should. But you have a duty to fulfill. If the First wins—"

"I'm not unaware of the consequences."

He paused at her uncharacteristic snap, "I know. In our world, the choices are never easy. If you stay, Angel and the others will only become more of a target. Should you leave, the First may use them as leverage. Either option is not what we'd hoped for."

"But it's what we have. Maybe me being here will give them some hope. Maybe it'll make the First reluctant to try anything."

"You know It'll come after all of you. Especially yourself and Angel."

"There's no rest for the guilty, is there?"

He almost smiled, "I'm afraid not."

"You came down here for a reason, I assume?"

"There is a demon, yes. One that should be dealt with sooner rather than later."

"Where?"

"Sewers. Not far from here. Under thirty-third, I believe. If you feel up to it, of course. If not, I can always ask Michael to come."

She smiled tiredly, "No. I'll be okay for now. I'm stronger."

The Old One kissed her on her forehead, "You've always been strong."

She let His graceful kiss silence her fears. She could feel the love He had for not only her, but all things. It was refreshing.

* * *

Angel saw the others in the atrium. They were still huddled around the Compendium. Fred looked up at him. They were all quiet for a moment. She walked out from behind the counter with her hands in her back pockets.

"Is she awake?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

"She didn't deny it. She says it'll only be another few days before she has her powers."

"So we're gonna watch over her till she's okay?"

"I offered."

"And what about afterwards?" Gunn asked.

"Didn't talk about that. Were you able to find anything else?"

Wesley looked up from his book, "Not much. There were some interesting tidbits about her origins, but nothing definitive. And I doubt she'll share her history with us."

"If it's a game of twenty questions you're after, I'll be glad to join in," Hope said, standing on the balcony above them.

They all stared at her. She wasn't bloody, wasn't soiled, wasn't showing pain. She looked more divine than imperfect beauty.

"Do we really only get twenty questions?" Gunn asked.

She smiled and sat on the circular couch, "No."

"And you're really gonna tell us what we wanna know?"

She shrugged, "The damage's been done. You know who and what I am. I think it'd be best all around if I answer your questions."

Angel leaned against the counter, "Is Hope your real name?"

"No."

"What is?" Fred sat next to her.

"I'd rather not say."

"Are you single?" Lorne smiled.

"Yeah. The life of a god isn't meant to be shared. That's why I wasn't supposed to be here. You all weren't supposed to know about me."

"In the Compendium, it mentions your predecessors. There's no real information. Are you the only one of your kind?" Wes kept the book in his hands.

She smiled tiredly, "No. When the Old One realized He needed a hand on earth, He started with a mortal. Imbued him with all the power his soul could contain. But his soul wasn't deep enough to hold it all, I guess. So, the Old One turned to the opposite end of the spectrum. He chose a child whose birth was impossible. The second child was born of two vampires."

Her eyes and Angel's met. Angel felt his heart sink. If that was Connor's purpose, it had all been erased. He swallowed hard and tried not to show his familiarity with the subject. He looked away.

"A vampire bearing a child was never recorded. It's not possible," Wesley said.

"Oh, it shook the world all right. But…things, events, happened. The child was denied his chance at destiny. He doesn't know who or what he is and he lives very much at peace. His soul was too dark for the Old One to imbue him with His powers. So, a new life was given to him until his soul was pure again."

"And you?"

"I was the last shot. Whereas a mortal soul was too shallow and a demonic soul too dark, I was a mixture of both. I am born of a vampire. My mother was human. In fact, you've met her. Or this dimensional version of her. Jo."

Angel perked up. He remembered that name. He remembered a pregnant lady. He remembered killing the Prio Motu.

"Jo was, is, your mother?" he asked.

"Yes. In my timeline, I was born in the year 2000. In this timeline, my replacement was also born in 2000. Only you saved her. You ensured her birth by facing the Tribunal in Kamal's place."

"So, how old are you?" Gunn asked.

"Almost five and a half million years old."

"Five and half…but you look…" Fred trailed off.

"Being a deity does have some benefits. But, when I was born, the world I was born into wasn't like this one. It was harsh. Overrun by demons."

"What happened?" Angel asked.

"I was given my powers at fourteen. For a century, I fought the general of the First. When I lost, I was sent back in time."

Angel watched her shoulders slump. She wouldn't bear him a glance, "Who was it?"

Her soulful eyes met his, "Angelus."

They all stared at Angel. He shifted, knowing now why she'd been so surprised to see him in the alley. Why she'd known about him.

"That's why I'm here. The First wants Angelus. It needs a general. And I have a strong suspicion that those Bringers in the alley weren't looking for me."

"They were after me."

"I'm afraid so. Only after they realized what they were fighting did the First come after me. But It wants you."

"But the First was defeated in Sunnydale. There was news about it being a big hole in the ground," Fred said.

"It was pushed back, not defeated. Now It's just more determined. Not having a general has made It weak. It plans to make up for lost time. When I lost, the Old One sent me back in time. A new existence sprang up. This reality. All this time, I've been behind the scenes, making sure the First doesn't win the war on this front."

"So, what? After you get your powers you'll just leave?" Gunn asked.

Hope looked to Angel, "That's not my decision to make."

He found her eyes as she looked at him. He could feel the others looking at him, to him. He couldn't meet her gaze. He kept his arms across his chest and his eyes to the ground.

"I should go. Just for today. I'm sure you all need some time to talk."

"Is it safe? What about the Bringers?" Fred asked.

Hope stood, "I'll be okay. I have something to take care of."

Angel lifted his gaze for a moment to watch her head to the basement door. He wanted to stop her. He wanted to ask her more. But he didn't have the words.

"Hope."

She turned to face him.

"Why is the First coming after me now? After all this time?"

She sighed, "Because now you're at a crossroads. It's been slated that you play a part in the Apocalypse. Which side you're on is still unclear. Angelus cannot be my champion anymore than Angel the First's. It realizes what It lost on that hilltop in Sunnydale. It plans to make up for lost time. With interest."

She walked away. He couldn't watch her go. Fred walked up to Angel, noticing that he wasn't moving, wasn't chasing after Hope, wasn't fighting what he'd been told would happen.

"Angel?"

He looked at her, his eyes glassy and bereft of the will—the fire—he'd always had. He seemed lost, afloat. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He swallowed hard, "I'll be in my office," he said simply, walking away from the departing Hope and ignoring the pleading faces of his friends.

Fred watched him go.

Wesley looked to the floor as he passed, knowing all the hope for a human Angel had been lost, that all the years of redemption and fighting the evil inside himself would amount to nothing without Hope's possible intervention.

* * *

Hope walked down the sewers hoping for a mistake. She didn't know why the Old One had sent her out after a demon, but He had his reasons. Perhaps it was just to distract her from the others and their questioning glances. Or maybe He'd wished to give her a challenge. At any rate, she was down in the sewers with nothing but an axe she'd silently taken from the weapon's cabinet. The others hadn't been looking and she knew she would need the weapon. She'd known the truth, even part of it, would hurt Angel. But he had to come to a decision on his own. For now, all she could do was fight the evil around her and hope he made the choice he needed to.

She crept through the sewers, wishing desperately that she could have her full strength returned to her quickly. It would take a few days to regain her powers. But she hoped it would be an uneventful few days so she could manage the task at hand without much chance at injury.

She heard the splashing of sewer water behind her. She turned quickly and eyed the darkness. The footsteps continued.

They were coming.

* * *

Fred knocked on Angel's closed office door. Without waiting for an invitation she knew she wasn't going to get, she entered and closed the door behind her.

"Hey."

He didn't bother to look at her, just kept his fingers steepled and elbows braced on the armrests of his chair. He stared at nothing and seemed intent on ignoring her.

"I know this must be hard for you. What Hope said…" she trailed off for a moment, "I just wanted to let you know we're here for you. Whatever you decide."

She waited for any response. But Angel just sat there, immobile and immoveable. She licked her lips and wrung her hands together, "I don't know the whole story behind the prophecy. I just know it's important to you. That makes it important to all of us. We've seen you as Angelus. But we know you as Angel. You're a hero. You help people. You've helped all of us. That's all that matters to me. Not some prophecy. Not what you did back when you were Angelus. You deserve to be rewarded. And I'll follow you to the gates of Hell to make sure you are."

Angel finally looked up at her, his eyes still glassy and his face showing his surprise at her declamation. He stood shakily and licked his lips, eyeing her with sentimental features. He managed a smile. It wasn't more than the corners of his lips moving upwards ever so slightly, but it was enough to make Fred smile in accomplished pride.

"Thanks."

She shrugged noncommittally, "I just tried to think of what Cordy would say."

Angel thought for a second, then his smile widened, "I think you nailed it."

Wesley popped his head in, "She took your axe."

"My axe?"

"It's gone."

Angel pulled on his long leather coat and walked from the office out to the atrium. He opened the weapons' cabinet and pulled out his sword and tossed Gunn an axe, Wesley another sword.

"Angel?" Wesley asked.

He let the blade rest on his shoulder, "Hope said she had something to take care of. Let's go help her out."

Gunn smiled and shifted the weight of the axe to both hands, "I'm all for killing something."

* * *

Hope collapsed against the sewer wall, the pain trying her nerves and her soul, making tears flow from her eyes. She looked at the large puddle of blood that was a mix of hers and the Bringers' and the demon's—the demon supplying the largest portion of it. It lay at her feet, its head embedded with the axe and the axe handle still firmly in Hope's hand. With renewed strength and more Bringers coming towards her, she tore the axe from the demon's skull and blocked the downward blow from the nearest Bringer. Using the axe, she sliced at its midsection and the Bringer fell to the sewer floor, entrails falling from the torso.

She forced herself to get up, the wall offering some support. She blocked the next blow and the one after that, her own body seeping blood to add to the puddle. They tried to overwhelm her, surround her and give her no room to maneuver. She forwent her support on the wall and took a step into the middle of the sewer, swinging the axe around her head and decapitating two of the numerous Bringers. As she brought it down to reset the weight in her hands, a Bringer behind her lodged a dagger solidly in her left lower back. She tore away from the Bringer as it tried to push the dagger in further and cause even more damage. With one hand on the axe handle and the other forcing the Bringer away, she tore the dagger out of her back, not caring that it would let more of her precious blood drop to the ground.

She was outnumbered and bruised and wounded.

A kick from one of the Bringers took her feet out from under her and she landed face forward into the puddle of blood, it splashing into her eyes and nostrils, blinding her and causing her to gag as she fumbled for the axe she'd dropped in the fall.

She rolled over onto her back, one of her eyes offering her a view of a long sword coming down at her chest.

She watched the blade come down.

It never hit its mark.

She felt some satisfaction at seeing another blade block it. Hands made their way to her arms and dragged her away from the fight. She spat out the blood that had accumulated in her mouth and let herself be positioned against the sewer wall.

Her chest racked with pain and she tried to ignore it.

Hope smiled as she felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her and bring her already heavy lids down to grant her rest.

"Hope!" Angel shouted, waking her rudely.

She snapped her eyes open to look at him and the others. But she couldn't find the strength to talk.

Angel grabbed her by the shoulders, looking quickly at the carnage around her, "Are you okay?"

She just nodded dreamily.

"We'll get you back to the hotel," Wesley started to help her up.

Angel saw the look of pure exhaustion on Hope's face and sighed inwardly, not allowing Wesley to help her up.

He gently wrapped his arms around her nearly weightless body and picked her up, her eyes already drifting closed and her face serenely buried into his jacket. He looked at her, suddenly knowing that it was his duty to protect her, even if she was really here to protect him.

And, holding her in his arms as her blood seeped through his shirt, he carried her back to the hotel.

* * *

"Fred, Lorne, get some towels and bandages," Angel instructed quietly, calmly, as they entered the hotel.

Fred nodded, hers eyes still focused on Hope. Angel carried her up to her room as Fred and Lorne followed close behind with bandages.

He laid her gently on the bed, having Fred put a towel down first. He gently pulled off Hope's sticky, wet and bloodied clothing, laying it aside to be washed. He placed another towel over her almost bare chest and held her in his arms again as Fred reached and gently cleaned all her wounds out. She bandaged them one by one. Once she was done, he laid her back on the bed and pulled the sheets over her shivering body. He just sat at her side for a moment, wanting to know what she was feeling.

Her eyes opened for a moment, "Angel."

"Yeah. I'm here."

"The Bringers?"

"Dead."

She smiled weakly and let her eyes droop again. He swept a strand of hair away from her mudded face, "Rest."

With that, she fell back into exhausted slumber.

He stood and looked to Lorne, "Keep an eye on her."

Lorne nodded.

Angel and Fred walked downstairs to the atrium, Wesley and Gunn standing.

"What happened?" Fred asked.

"The demon she took out was long dead. Bringers got her," Angel said quickly.

"She'd already killed most of them," Wesley allowed.

"How many were there?"

"Hard to tell. Most of them were chopped up. I'd say at least ten."

"So I guess It wants her gone so she can't help you."

"Looks that way."

"I don't think that was the last we'll see of them," Wesley said, standing.

"How many are there, man?"

Wesley cocked an eyebrow, "From the looks of it, a few dozen," he picked up his sword.

Angel and Gunn stood to see Bringers outside the double doors.

"Fred, get into Hope's room. Lock the door."

She did so and Angel and Gunn picked up their weapons.

The Bringers just stood there.

"What are they waiting for?" Wesley asked impatiently.

"They're making sure we don't leave the building."

"Okay, I'm officially freaked out."

"Buffy?" Angel asked, seeing her walk in past the Bringers. They opened the doors for her and then closed them, not entering with her.

"Angel."

He eyed her for a moment, taking in every scent and realizing just what she was.

"You're not Buffy."

The image in front of him seemed unflustered, "No, I'm not. But I can be. I can be anyone, Angel. Anyone you want me to be," she smiled, her form twisting and changing into that of Darla, "This better?"

"What do you want?"

"I want the Young One."

"You can't have her,"

Darla chuckled, "Look around you, Angelus. You're outnumbered. You might as well make all this easier for yourself and give her over."

"You want her. That means she poses a threat to you. It means she's telling the truth."

"This is the only chance you've got, Angelus. Hand her over."

"No," Angel lifted his sword, ready for the charge of the Bringers, "I won't hand her over."

"None of us will," Wesley backed him up, Gunn also taking a more defensive stance.

Darla chuckled, "All this devotion to a woman you just met? How can you be so sure she tells the truth? How can you know she isn't the one to watch out for?"

"Better than trusting you."

"You think she's some kind of savior, Angelus? Is that what you think?"

"I think she's a chance."

"A chance for what?"

"A chance to kick your ass all the way back to Hell," he finished, waiting tensely for any attack from the Bringers.

Darla looked down her nose at him, "Petulant vampire. You have no idea what war you've become involved in."

"I think he does,"

Not taking his eyes from the First, he could barely see Hope walking down the stairs and towards them. As she got closer, he could see a slight mist following her, her skin silver.

"You can't protect them, Young One."

"Watch me."

The Bringers charged.

A blinding silver light filled the atrium.

Angel covered his eyes from the unexpected burst of light. He thought the Bringers would attack as he and the others were distracted and blinded by the radiance.

Nothing happened.

The light receded and he lowered his hand from his eyes.

Hope stood in front of him, still weak and disorientated from the display, but possessing something more. Slowly, she healed in front of them, her person being cleansed. Her figure was bathed in a white heavenly gown, her hair no longer matted with blood and sewer, but vibrant and clean. The Bringers and the First were gone.

The door to her room opened and Fred and Lorne rushed out to see her standing there.

Her face was that of purity and innocence, her eyes the gateway to the righteousness in the world. Angel's eyes widened and if his heart was beating, it would've skipped one. He eyed her for a moment, unsure if it was really her. Her hair was mahogany, golden highlights in it, and her skin was pure ivory. Her gemstone eyes seemed to hold the stars in them.

She fell to her haunches. Angel was the first to rush to her side. She was breathing deep, and her no-longer-present wounds tried to resurface.

"Hope?"

"I'm fine."

They watched as the wounds were finally pushed beyond her flesh. Her breathing slowed and she tried to stand. She stumbled and Angel caught her. She let him carry her weight for a moment as she fought off vertigo. Slowly, she stood on her own two legs with one hand still on Angel's shoulder for support.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Angel asked.

Hope eyed him for a moment, "Just overexerted myself. I'll be fine in a while. My power will return. Thanks. For helping me."

"So, what do we do now?"

"There is nothing to do for now. All we can do is wait. The First will make the next move. From there the battle shall start."

Angel continued to eye her. They all did. She looked at her own hands and then started to walk towards her room slowly, decidedly, "I'll be upstairs."

Fred and Lorne watched her close the door gently, then made their way down the stairs to rejoin Angel, Wesley and Gunn.

"She just started glowing," Fred said.

Angel put his sword aside and followed her up the stairs to her room. He tapped on her door and she opened it. She was in pajamas and she appeared more worn out than godly.

She tried to smile pleasantly, but it just showed her true exhaustion "Angel, come in."

She opened the door. He stepped over the threshold and closed it after. She sat on the bed corner, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Are you okay?"

She looked at him, "Dizzy, is all. The light show slowed me down."

"It was impressive."

"Thanks."

"Are you up to talking?"

"Always."

"I just…what you said earlier…about your predecessor…"

"You want to know if Connor could've been like me."

"Yeah."

"If he'd been raised with you, it's likely."

"And now?"

"It's unlikely he'll ever take my place. But his soul is cleaner. He'll be a fine candidate should he be needed."

He noticed her ivory skin was starting to have a silver sheen to it. Although she still looked tired, her skin was radiant and energized. He could feel it tingle for the proximity.

She noticed it and looked down, "Sorry, my powers are kinda off the wall right now."

"It doesn't bother me."

She stood. She stumbled forward. He caught her. He could feel her unbridled powers rush through him when their skin made contact. With her in his arms, he fell to his knees and let her power run its course. He gasped, feeling the need to breathe. His heart pounded in his chest. His own skin started to glow. But he felt himself be alive.

In the ecstasy, he kissed her. It wasn't romantic, wasn't polite. It was fervid. He pulled away. She sat on the floor, watching his reaction with her fingers to her lips. He leaned against the wall, feeling the high of adrenaline.

He couldn't speak. All he could feel was the power fading. His heart stopped beating and his need for air was gone. The glow on his skin pulsed and wavered before fading.

"Angel?"

"It was beating," he rasped.

"Oh."

He realized what he'd done. He swallowed hard and tried to get up from the floor, "God, I didn't mean…Hope…I'm sorry."

He faltered and fell back to his haunches, his dead body still shivering with the effect of her power. She crept on all fours closer to him and sat next to him on the floor with her back against the wall. He could feel her skin send off waves of energy.

"It wasn't your fault," she said finally.

"I shouldn't have…"

"It's okay."

"I should go," he pushed himself from the wall and felt his head spin. He braced himself on the bed with one hand to his forehead.

"You'll be a bit dizzy for a few moments. Best to sit and let it pass."

"This happened before?"

"A demon isn't meant to know my powers so intimately. In your case, both the human and the vampire are dealing with the brush. The demon's pulling away and the man's feeling alive. It's a tough combination on the body. If you didn't have a soul it would be painful."

He stared at her, still hunched over, "You know a bit about this, don't you?"

"It's one of the ways I fought Angelus."

Her comment sobered him. He could feel his head stop spinning. His skin stopped tingling. He stood there, looking down at her as she sat on the baseboard. If nostalgia had an antonym, that was her face. He knew that look. The past coming back to haunt you.

He offered his hand to help her up. She paused, took it, and sat back on the bed. He watched her for a moment as she gathered her bearings and pushed down the dizziness.

"I'm sorry for kissing you."

"Wasn't the same reaction I got with Angelus, but it wasn't worse."

He sat next to her, "You and he fought a lot?"

Her tired eyes faced ahead, "Too much."

"How'd it end?"

She paused, "The Old One yanked me away. Sent me back in time."

"If I thought apologizing for everything he did would make it better, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"You don't have a heartbeat."

"It's an expression."

"I know."

"How can you help me after fighting him for a century?"

"Because you're not him. I made that distinction a long time ago."

He stood, "Thanks. For that."

She looked to him as he started to walk out, "We'll keep the kiss our little secret."

He nodded, "Pretend it never happened."

"Forgive and forget."

He left her alone in her room and closed the door. He stood outside it for a moment, feeling his lips. He couldn't forget it. He wanted to savor it. Something primal had been made awake with that kiss. Although the sensation was almost gone, there was still a residual feeling of her. And residual wasn't enough.

* * *

Behind her door, Hope sat on her bed, awestruck at what she'd felt. Her powers had invaded others before, but she'd never gotten a throwback. She'd never felt it as they felt it. She touched her lips. They were still tingling. Her powers had not only touched the demon inside Angel, they'd awoken it inside her. And it liked what it felt.

Hope's eyes widened as she felt the presence behind her. She turned sharply, eyeing the massive creature. It's hands were nothing more than bull-horn claws with serrated edges. The eyes in the middle of its massive head bore down on her. Its body was a sickly blue and it seemed to be covered in some sort of slime…cracks in its skin sealing quickly as it breathed. The First had pulled out a more massive foe.

Hope knew the blow was coming.

* * *

Angel's brow furrowed when he heard a snarl in Hope's room. He turned and started to walk back. Hope slammed through the wooden door. She landed against the opposite wall. Shaking her head free of the hit, she looked to him and ran. He paused as she grabbed at him. A putrid blue demon lumbered out of her room, barely able to make it through the doorframe. Like cracked lava that was starting to cool, its skin contracted and expanded with every breath it took. He ran with her. Without hesitation, they ran down the hall to the balcony. She jumped with him over the railing. Her foot got caught at the last moment and it spun her. She landed on her side instead of her back. Still holding onto each other, he helped her up. Wood landed around them and blood dripped from Hope's torn face.

Hope stood shakily, watching the demon on the balcony jump down to the first floor, sending a resounding vibration through the frame of the Hyperion.

"What the hell is that?" Gunn asked.

"Stay back," Angel eyed them quickly, his attention soon turned back on the demon approaching them.

Hope opened the weapons' cabinet drawers and the weapons flew from them under her watchful eyes, impaling the demon. Hope waited for a moment to see if the massive impalement would slow the demon down.

It recovered, its wounds sealing up and the weapons simply sucked in under its flesh.

Hope swallowed hard, "Dammit."

She picked up a sword and charged. Before she ever got near the demon, it swiped and sent her flying backwards. She hit the baseboard of the counter and it cracked. The demon took two lumbering steps closer and she stood, unwilling to let it get closer to the others. Angel was next to her, his own favorite broadsword at his hands. Running the short distance and sliding on his side, feet first, he went under the lumbering arms. Standing the moment he was in range, he thrust the sword up through the chin and out through the cranium. It squealed and roared, clawed at the wound. Hope ducked from the large arms and landed a punch to the demon's gut. Although the slime-covered mass absorbed it, she was able to force it back a few paces.

"Hope!"

She turned and caught a lighter and an aerosol air freshener can. Snapping open the lighter, she let the air freshener carry the flame onto the demon. The slime evaporated. Mixing with springtime flowers was the noxious odor of flesh sizzling. The demon was engulfed, the slime flammable enough. Hope stopped her homemade flame-blower and watched apathetically as the demon fell to the ground, turning from a viscous mass to ash. The weapons were left behind. Heated red, they stayed away, willing to let them cool before reclaiming them.

Hope waved her hand and the demon's remains cleaned up without much effort. She stood there, blood dripping from her battered face and her hands clenched at her sides.

Fred walked out to her timidly, eyeing the place where the demon had been killed, "Hope?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

"What was that?" Gunn asked from behind.

"A demon."

"Yeah—but what kind?"

Hope turned to look at them, "Does it matter?—it's dead."

"You're sure you're all right?" Lorne asked.

Hope nodded, the blood from her forehead seeping into her left eye, "Yeah. I'll be fine. I'm gonna take a walk," she turned and walked towards the basement door, closing it purposefully behind her.

"Uh, I'll be following her," Angel said, walking quickly to catch up with her.

He walked quickly down the stairs, the door to the sewers already closed. He yanked it back open and heard her footsteps as they splashed in the sewer ahead. He followed her down, her sounds becoming distant.

"Hope!"

He rounded a corner and stopped dead. She was sitting in the murky and questionable water and had her bleeding face buried in her hands, evidently crying.

"Hope?"

She took her hands from her face and leaned her head on the sewer wall, "I'm fine," she repeated.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Hope ran her hand over her cut and it seemed to shimmer for a moment, then it was gone. She wiped the remaining blood from her skin and stood.

"Nothing."

"You did a better job lying when you weren't all-powerful," he pointed out.

"I don't need sympathy, Angel. I'm not some damsel in distress you need to save. I'm here to protect you and that's what I'll do."

"Who protects you?"

She continued to wipe the remaining blood from her face, then exhaled deeply, "I'm gonna take a walk. I'll be back later," she said simply, turning away from Angel and walking away.

Angel watched her go, rounding a corner to meet up with a stairwell. Seeing her walk away under her own power, her small cut healed by some powerful touch, he knew it wasn't his place to go after her. It wasn't his right.

The echoes of his heartbeat and the power that had created it still pulsed through him. He walked back to the Hyperion feeling like he was missing a small part of himself. He climbed up the stairs. Walking into the atrium, the others eyed him, looking for Hope.

"Where is she?"

"Don't know. She said she needed to take a walk."

"Is that wise considering what just attacked us?"

"She's stronger."

"Are you sure?"

Angel thought about what he'd felt, "I'm sure."

He walked away to his office.

"Angel…are you okay?"

He turned to face Fred, "Yeah."

"You look like you're glowing."

Angel looked at his hands. His skin had a small glow to it. It wasn't as radiant as Hope's but it was enough to be noticeable, "Must be leftovers," he said.

"Huh?"

"When we were upstairs, she fell. When I caught her, some of her power got into me. Made my heart beat. This must be the leftovers."

"It made your heart…?" Fred trailed off.

"Yeah."

* * *

Hope smiled wanly as mimes and clowns passed by her. One of the clowns offered her a flower and she accepted, the carnation smelling sweet in the morning air. She walked along the rows of stands, each trying to sell their wares and whatnot. She stopped at a little metaphysical stand and looked at the carved stone figurines.

She walked along and stopped at an electronics booth. Another young man was looking at the portable CD players next to her. She found one she liked and examined it. It was brand-new, still in the package and was blue with silver designs on it. She smiled upon seeing it came with a free set of junkie earphones.

The man next to her eyed the piece, "That's a good brand," he said noncommittally.

Hope caught his face and smiled, "Michael?"

He turned to look at her again with a smile and they embraced upon her realizing her initial reaction to him was correct.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in Cleveland."

He shrugged, flicking shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, "Nothing going on up there. He told me you could use a bit of help, so, here I am," he held out his arms in presentation.

Hope placed the CD player back on the stand and started to walk with Michael, "I guess you heard what's going on."

He nodded, pulling a pair of sunglass off from the top of his head and covering up his eyes. He snatched a pair for Hope, their aviator design more retro than practical, "Yeah—all of the Powers know. Big fun. And, so far, things don't look all that cheery," he stopped to eye her, "Why'd you heal yourself?"

She smiled depreciatievly, "Unknown demonic bastard," she replied.

His eyebrows raised, "Haven't seen one of those in a while—didn't think It could cook up any more."

They started walking again, "Oh, believe me, It can still cook up a storm."

"What was this one?"

"Blue and nasty. Slimy, too. You know how I hate slimy things."

"He told me you're having Bringer trouble."

"Is He ever wrong?"

"Well, He did bring you into the mix."

She smacked him playfully. He faked pain.

"So, Cleveland's slow?"

"Yeah. There's a Slayer and her boy toy up there. They've got it covered. I just tweak some stuff."

"We are meddlesome, aren't we?"

"Someone's gotta keep an eye on them."

"Yeah, about that…"

"What?"

"They know."

"They who know what?"

"Angel…his friends…they know about me."

Michael stopped walking and looked at her through his sunglasses, "Hope…"

"I know. I know. It wasn't supposed to happen. It just did. I got into town and Bringers were after him. I happened to get in their way first. I got stabbed. He had my bag. I tried to get it back and he insisted I stay with him."

"And you told them? About what you are?"

"They have an out-of-dimension copy of Rhinehardt's Compendium. We never thought to have me erased from all dimensional copies of those books."

"So they know. Everything."

"Not everything. Just enough for them to know what's at stake."

"And the vampire?"

"Angel? He wants to protect me. At least until my powers come back fully."

He sighed, "I explained to you. Way back in the day I told you about the Star Trek don't-tell-the-people-you're-helping-that-you're-helping-them gig. Very clear from day one. Ringing a bell?"

"He saved my life. He wants to help."

"And you've gone soft."

"I'm not soft. I appreciate what he wants to do."

He rolled his eyes, "You're soft."

He walked off and she followed him. He sat at a café patio table. She stood for a moment, eyeing him through her silver tinted glasses.

"Angel will make you proud."

"He's a vampire."

"With a soul."

"Vampire."

"My champion. You got the humans and I got the demons. I chose him for a reason."

"Oh, by the way, I'm still winning," he grinned.

She sat down across from him, "This isn't some numbers game, Michael. Besides, half those Slayers couldn't hold a candle to my guys."

"Quantity."

She cocked an eyebrow, "Quality."

"You want something to drink?"

"Iced tea latte."

The waitress walked over. Michael ordered what he wanted and what she'd asked for. As soon as the young woman walked off, he smiled and leaned back in the metal chair.

"I'm still winning."

"Angel will impress you."

He looked over the top of his sunglasses, "He kissed you, didn't he?"

She remained quiet for a moment, "Where'd you hear that?"

"You know the Powers. They talk. And seeing you share those ruby reds with a vampire is definitely talking material."

"It was an accident," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Really?"

"I fell. My powers were unstable. He caught me."

"And that explains why he kissed you because…"

"I don't know."

"And you liked it."

"I did not."

"Oh, don't even try to lie to me. You know you liked it."

"You're wrong."

"I've known you for as long as you've been a god. I know when I'm right and I'm right."

"Even if you are, it wouldn't mean anything."

"Oh, but it's fun to taunt you."

She sighed, "You should come meet them."

" 'Cause them knowing about one Power isn't bad enough."

"You're not a Power. Not anymore. I replaced you, remember? Besides, the damage's done. You should see what they can do. They'll change your mind."

"Correction: you replaced that vampire offspring. Not me."

"And he replaced you. Big whoop. I'm still your replacement…only once removed."

"I hate when you pull rank."

She smiled. He sighed.

"Fine. I'll come meet your band of brigands."

"They're good people."

"Who hang out with a vampire."

She looked away, out to the busy street, "He's not Angelus."

"He is. Only with a soul. Without that, he's a monster."

"You're wrong."

"Our world is gone because of him."

"Angelus took it away. Not Angel. Angel can save it."

"Don't kid yourself. He's Angelus. He's just wearing a different face."

She looked him in the eyes, "I believe in him."

"Yeah, you do."

* * *

Angel heard Wesley say 'huh' in the inquisitive sense. Since they'd found the reference to Hope in an out-of-dimension copy of the Compendium, Wesley had gone overboard and had bought some books that also were out-of-towners. He looked up and saw Wes still with his nose in the latest book.

"You found something?" Fred asked.

He paused, "This seems to be a record of her earliest battles with the First's general."

"You can say Angelus," Angel said, appreciating the attempt.

Wesley nodded, "It says here that Hope was born near the Rocky Mountains and her and her family migrated to New York just after she got her powers. It says that the western part of America was already being overrun with demons vying for power. The east coast was safer."

"When does Angelus come in?" Gunn asked.

"She was nineteen. Angelus was after a sword of some power that was stashed in the American Museum of Natural History. It doesn't give a name, but the sword was forged by the Powers the day humanity was given control of the world."

"And she stopped him?"

"By destroying the sword."

Angel nodded, "She knew if she kept it she'd be a bigger target. And if she still had family around, they'd be how he got to her."

"Does it mention her family?" Fred asked.

"It does. Her mother, Jo, and her guardian…Kamal."

"The Prio I killed three years ago," Angel sighed.

"This was another timeline, another dimension. You're not responsible for what happened to him. It was an accident."

"My accident took away her guardian."

"I don't remember that," Fred spoke up.

"It was before we got you out of Pylea," Gunn said simply.

"What happened?"

Wesley spoke up before Angel had to, "Cordelia had received a vision. The demon she saw in it we assumed to be evil. When Angel encountered it, he also met a pregnant woman, Jo. He killed the Prio Motu. As the case turned out, the Prio was protecting Jo and was to represent her in a medieval trial that would determine her and her child's safety."

"Oh."

"The more I learn about her, the more I wonder why she's helping us," Angel said aloud.

They all stared at him.

"Angel Cakes, what are you talking about?"

"I killed her guardian. Angelus tormented her for a century. Why would she still help after all that?"

Lorne smiled, "She's a god, muffin. That's all there is to it."

"Things are never that simple. Let alone when you've been alive as long as she has."

"You think she's helping us for a different reason?" Fred asked.

"Like what?" Gunn asked.

Angel shrugged, "I don't know."

"That seems to be a reoccurring theme with her, huh?" Lorne asked, "Well, get the bird to sing and I'll see what she turns up."

"It might be our best chance at seeing if her motives are other than genuine," Wesley agreed.

"It says she fought Angelus for a century…but why'd she lose?"

They all stared at him unsurely, not coming up with an answer.

"That light show, healing…she's not even to full strength yet and she's pulling off some impressive tricks. So why'd she lose?"

"What, you think you can't take her?" Gunn chuckled.

Angel stared at him.

"Oh."

"Her final battle isn't recounted. There's no mention of it in any of the texts. If Angelus was indeed the general of the First, it's possible he had a significant army."

"Him winning isn't the point. Her losing is."

Fred sighed and ran her hands across the back of her neck, "Maybe it's just too hard for her to talk about it. I mean, losing a fight can make you down. And if Angelus really did win 'cause of something she did wrong, I'm sure she's not about to talk about it."

* * *

Hope could barely hold her drink for the chuckles in her belly. Michael left his glass of red wine on the table, unwilling to take the chance.

"So, I'm standing there, waiting for this thing to charge, and you never guess what it does—"

"What?"

"It just shrivels up and goes poof. I mean, I was fighting this thing for near three hours and it just went poof. Like a huge vacuum bag exploded or something!" he exclaimed.

Hope chuckled.

"So, there I am, completely covered head to toe by this dust—or whatever it was—and it starts to rain. Not only am I bleeding from every inch of myself, the dust starts to thicken when the rain hits it and I am completely immobilized for, like, an hour. I looked like a friggin' concrete statue," he laughed at himself, Hope joining him.

"Wish I could have been there to see it."

"Oh, please, don't add to the humiliation."

They waited for the mandated seriousness of their original conversation to set back in. He eyed her as she swirled the whipped cream around on the top of her drink.

"He told me about what happened this morning, Hope. That's the real reason I came," he said quickly.

Hope eyed him once, for a second, then looked down.

"It's not your fault. It was your first big power battle in a decade or so."

She shook her head, "I should have held it together."

"Your body wasn't completely healed. You've just come off the stint of the whole 'I'm human' gig. It takes time to build up that resistance again—you know that."

"I should've been stronger. It never should've gotten a hit in."

"Oh well, it got a hit in. That doesn't mean you're losing it, you know," he searched for her downcast eyes, found them, and tried to smile infectiously.

It worked and she smiled in spite of everything, "I hate it when you do that," she whined.

"I can tell."

She looked out at the beautiful park, people coming and going, "The battle is coming, Michael. I can feel it. It's a huge flood and I'm the dam."

"We're both the dam."

"I should be getting back—it's almost dark."

"Why? I know you haven't lost that ability. If need be, we can just pop in when Angel needs us. You don't have to walk there and keep an eye on him like he's an infant, Hope." Hope rolled her eyes, "Everyone's an infant compared to us."

"Okay, then, he's a toddler."

Hope smiled, looked back out at the park, "It feels like I've been doing this for so long."

"Doing what?"

"Watching him…protecting him. Only now, he can see me. I have spent so much time and energy trying to make things work better than they did before. Trying to make everything go right. No matter how hard I try, It keeps screwing up my plans. It keeps bringing up that darkness, that evil. And I don't know if I can stop that evil if it comes again."

"You will."

"How can you be sure?"

"I may not be as powerful as you, Hope, but I do know quite a bit. I've been around a bit longer than you, remember? And, if it's one thing I've learned, it's that you always come through. You always win. It's not the strength, it's not the knowledge, it's not the powers—it's you. He chose you because you stood out in a time when everything was going to Hell. You have something, Hope."

"What do I have, Michael?"

"A purity. One that no man, demon or evil can touch."

"If I'm so pure, why am I what I am?"

He exhaled sharply, "Hope…don't get into that."

"Why not? It matters, doesn't it?"

"You have control over it, Hope. You have for millions of years. It doesn't come out unless you want it to."

"But, when it does, I'm just like him. How can I have the moral high ground when I am what he is?" she asked.

"You're different than Angel, Hope. The demon inside him…he can't control it. You can control yours. You know that."

She eyed him, "You really know how to ruin my brooding rights, you know that?"

He shrugged, "Can't have two soulful vamps brooding all the time."

"Michael!" she smacked him playfully.

He feigned injury, cracking up at her reaction.

Hope's face became tired, serious, "I really should get back."

He stood and took the last sip of the wine, "You want me to walk you there?"

She stood, "Do you mind?"

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave a little hug, "Nah. I'll keep you out of trouble."

With his hand on her shoulder, she walked along. The twilight hour sent a pale purple and golden glow to everything. As comforting as the silence between them was, Hope knew he didn't like it. Silence for Michael was death. Considering they'd once been so much more, he hated silence…most especially between them.

"Any other amazing tales you care to tell?"

He smiled tiredly, "Nah. You?"

"Nothing really. Besides getting my body back. Which still feels weird after being floaty for all those years."

"I know what you mean."

She couldn't think of much more to talk about. They'd spent the better part of the afternoon at the café. She looked at him. Really looked at him. He hadn't changed much, if at all, in the millions of years she'd known him. Unlike her. Her powers were more volatile. Eventually, the body would wear down and she would be without. Or, in the opposite extreme, her powers would degrade by being trapped in a flesh prison and she'd forgo it to regain her strength. Either way, she'd worn several skins since she'd been imbued. But Michael didn't have to. His powers would degrade to a certain extent, but he would retreat to their sanctuary and let that heavenly place replenish him. She would, too. But she had to do it more often. Being powerful came with a price. She loved his shaggy hair. It wasn't long, but it was beyond short. He was about the same height as her. He had colorful eyes. They were always bright and either looked blue or hazel depending on what color he wore. He was lighter in build. She teased him about being a quarterback when they'd first met.

"So, have you warned them?"

"About what?"

He smiled, "The mojo."

"It's not mojo. It's not magick. We've been through that."

"Yeah, well, it'll start getting to them. Did you warn them?"

"No. I hopefully won't be around long enough for it to become an issue."

"It's always an issue. Whenever you get all fleshed out, at least one goes head-over-heels."

"For my power. Not for me. The power is intoxicating. Even Angel having brushed it worries me. It made his heart beat."

"Well, it explains why he kissed you."

"Will you come off it!" she shoved his arm off her shoulder.

"What? I'm serious."

"So am I," she stalked off.

He caught up to her, "Hope, come on. You know you have an affect on most guys. Demon or human or what-have-you. I'm just saying it could become an issue if you're living with them. Especially if Angel's already had a brush with it. Earthly creatures, human or not, are not meant to get a whiff of us. Let alone a taste."

"If it starts becoming a problem, I'll tell them."

"I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't."

He cupped her cheek, "That's all I care about."

She nodded, "I know."

She started walking again and he caught up to her.

* * *

Angel stood out in the garden. The sun was down and he wanted to keep an eye out for Hope. Not seeing anyone coming towards the hotel that looked like her, he walked back inside. Fred, more worried than the others, walked up to him.

"Did you see her?"

"No."

"Are you sure she's okay?"

Angel shrugged, "I don't know. It's the first time I've ever really gotten to know a goddess. When she wants, she'll come back."

"But what if she's dead or hurt or something?"

"I doubt she is."

"We should go out and look for her."

"Fred, she'll be back. Whenever she works through whatever made her walk off, she'll be back."

Gunn walked in from the other doors, "Dinner has arrived."

He laid the bag of Chinese food down on the counter. Passing out take-out boxes full of oriental goodness, Wesley divided up the chopsticks. Fred and Lorne took their meals and chopsticks. Fred put hers aside and walked around to the minifridge.

"You hungry?" she asked him.

He nodded, "I'll get it."

She was ahead of him and poured the blood out of the container. She handed it to him with a wide smile. He sat on the circular couch and had his dinner, the others sitting around the atrium and doing the same.

His sensitive ears picked up two sets of footsteps outside. One was Hope's. The other he didn't recognize. He paused, listening. He could barely hear them. Then he heard something else. He rushed for the weapons cabinet. The others didn't have time to question him as he braced himself.

Hope and a young man walked in from the garden. Hope's eyes met him and his weapon. She knew. He threw the axe. She yanked at the young man and they fell to their stomachs. The axe landed in the chest of an advancing demon. Its skin rippled with white streaks. With its weapon ready to strike, it paused, realizing it had been struck. It fell backwards and into the garden. Angel steadied himself and met Hope's eyes. She looked at the young man next to her and then over her shoulder. The demon wasn't getting back up.

She got up and walked down the stairs, "I doubt that'll be the last."

The young man followed her, his eyes trained on Angel. Angel ignored the attention. He looked to Hope.

"Can you hear them?"

She nodded, reaching for a sword. She paused. His ears and hers perked. He had no doubt that her hearing was just as good as his if not better. The others fell silent.

Her hand tightened around a sword. She handed one to him. He took it. The young man nudged her, evidently hearing what she and Angel were hearing.

Angel was the first to strike. His sword landed in a chunk of air. The demon's chameleon skin rippled with flashes of white as blue blood ran from the wound. Hope threw a kick to it and it flew backwards. It landed on the tiled floor and the chameleon skin lost its ability as it died. It showed its true appearance.

It was a sickly blue-green. It looked more human than not in proportion. But it had distinctive scales on the hollows of the body. The eyes were covered with another set of eyelids like those of a crocodile. Its fingers ended in small gray claws.

"How many more do you think there are?" the man asked, standing back to back with Hope. Angel looked over to the others. Gunn and Wesley had Fred behind them, a weapon in hand. Lorne was trying to get vibes from the air. But even he was nervous.

"How are we supposed to fight these things if we can't see 'em?" Gunn asked from behind the counter.

"There's three more," Hope said, her head tilted and her eyes focused on nothing.

Angel heard one near Hope. The background behind her wavered. The same time he raised his sword, she swung hers. The head came off. It rolled across the atrium, showing itself and leaking blue blood. The body to the side of her fell.

They all became quiet again. Angel could hear the other two. They were close together. Their footsteps were padded, soft and deliberate. They came closer. But he couldn't tell exactly how much closer.

He felt a sword come through his chest. The only reason he could see it was his blood coated the blade.

"Angel!"

She rushed over to his side when he fell to his knees, panting. She took a swipe. He felt the sword jerk as the demon behind him was decapitated. The sword lost whatever ability the demon had. It showed itself. Hope kneeled next to him. But the blade in his chest wasn't the one that caught his eyes.

A blade shimmered and flashed into visibility at Hope's jawline. She froze. The demon behind her let himself be seen. Their eyes met. Her head was tilted to one side while the demon pressed the blade under her jaw.

"My master sends Its regards."

Her jaw tensed. With a fury he hadn't seen in her, she reached up and grabbed the blade. The demon tried to yank it back. It sliced her palm, but it wasn't let loose. She yanked forward and the demon lost its grip. She spun around and let the pommel hit the demon in the head on the temple. With the sword still causing her to bleed, she wrapped both hands around the blade and struck down the demon. It fell, holding onto the wound in its gut.

Her face was twisted in a joyful, silent snarl. She glared at the defeated demon. The young man Angel still didn't know walked up to her. She ignored him and her own sliced palms. She lost that fire as quickly as it had come to her. Dropping the sword, she kneeled next to him.

Staying on all fours, he sat up straight again. The sword still stuck out of his chest. She reached around and yanked. He inhaled sharply as it ripped free. It wasn't a smooth blade like the one she'd grabbed onto. This one was meant to cause more damage. It had serrated edges like a steak knife; two were more prominent than the others.

Angel sighed as the pain started to subside.

"You okay?"

He nodded. He slowly sat himself onto the stairs he was near.

"Shame," a deep, smooth voice behind him said.

He stood and backed away to see a demon. Hope and the young man glared at it. It lost its form to change into a young man. The young man the First pretended to be had rusty red hair, freckled skin and deep blue eyes. He saw Hope swallow hard. The First had hit a spot.

"It doesn't matter what you look like. You're still the First. You're not Cullen."

"But it smarts, doesn't it? Seeing me? You couldn't save me. You can't save anyone."

"Back off," the young man next to Hope demanded.

"I see you brought Michael along for the ride," It smiled.

Michael. So the young man alongside Hope had a name after all.

"She wanted someone to help her celebrate when she won," he quipped.

Hope smiled, "I'd leave if I were you."

It's form changed again. It looked like her. A mirror had been held up to Hope and It walked closer. The two of them were nose to nose. It was her, only colder, haughty and smiling derisively.

"Oh, but I am you. I'm what you hold closest to your heart. I can be anyone that you keep there. Even you."

"You're not them."

It changed forms again. This one, Angel recognized. Jenny Calendar. His heart fell. This wasn't an attack on Hope anymore. The faux Jenny Calendar still had that scent. Those deep eyes and black gypsy hair. He'd snapped her neck. Left her in Gile's bed to be found. But that was all Angelus. Not him. Jenny looked over to him and smiled, in that way she'd always smiled when she was alive. She walked over to him. She was talking to him, but he couldn't hear her. Regret wouldn't let him. He stood there, steadfast, as Jenny Calendar tried to get under his skin with words. But just being there, looking like the woman he'd murdered, was more than enough.

Hope walked over and stood between It and him. He looked over her shoulder at It.

"No matter how immaterial you think you are, I can still kick you ass," she threatened.

It took one last glance at Angel and backed off. It averted It's glare to the others.

"They're all so ripe, Young One. Ripe for guilt."

"You don't give them enough credit."

"But you do. Pity. I still think you'd make a better ally then enemy."

"I still think I can kick your ass. So get lost."

It changed forms again, turning into Buffy. That form Angel resented more.

"Don't worry. I'll be back. And I won't be alone."

It dissipated into a black cloud with arms and horns and red eyes. Then It was gone.

Hope sighed and turned around to face him, "You okay?"

The pain in his gut was nothing compared to the regret he had. But he only nodded, "Yeah."

"Don't let it get to you."

He nodded again. He looked to the young man named Michael, "You don't seem surprised."

Hope smiled, "Angel, this is Michael. Michael, Angel. He's my predecessor."

Fred, Gunn, Wesley and Lorne walked out from behind the counter and greeted him. Wesley seemed more fascinated than courteous. Angel almost smiled. Michael greeted each of them, more interested in Hope. Angel knew that look he was sparing towards her every chance he got. But Hope was too focused on his wound.

"You should sit down."

He shook it off, "I'll be fine."

She cocked an eyebrow, "Humor me."

He sat down on the barstool and winced. The sword had come through his chest and sliced a few ribs. They were rubbing against his innards, causing more discomfort than serious pain. Hope hunched down, wiping away the blood with a piece of cloth. He let her. She seemed more intent on taking care of him than worrying about the First's taunts.

Michael walked up behind her, "We need to talk."

She didn't glance at him, just continued to mend the wound, "I'm busy."

He grabbed her by her upper arm. Angel saw her face freeze. She put down the cloth and stood to face him, "What?"

He cautiously spared a glance around, not wanting to say whatever it was in front of the others. She crossed her arms over her chest, impatient, "Well?"

"Privately."

"No."

"Fine, then. You shouldn't be here. The First will keep trying so long as you're not at full strength."

"But that's only another few days, right?" Fred asked from behind.

"Until she gets her full powers back. It could take a month for her to be lethal."

She straightened, "You're wrong."

"I'm not. And as much as you'd like to think the First is only trying to get Angel, It's trying to get you, too. Being here is making all of them a target."

"They were always targets. Now they just have a bigger bull's-eye."

He scoffed, "This isn't a game, Hope."

"I don't plan on playing one."

"We should leave until we're both a lot stronger. It won't come after them if we're gone."

"You don't know that."

"I know how It works. It will keep sending mercenaries until It strikes you down. And you are giving It every opportunity."

"It won't stop coming after Angel. It won't stop coming after his friends. At least if I'm here, I can help. Going off to some remote place won't change what's happening."

"You're gonna get them killed."

Hope considered that, no witty comeback for the moment. Angel stood behind her, "I'm not afraid to die."

"Me, neither," Gunn added.

"That goes for me, too."

"And me."

"Hey, as long as I've got a seabreeze, I'm happy."

Hope smiled gratefully. So did Angel. Michael seemed more perturbed than anything. Angel walked up next to Hope, "Hope told us what she is. She's the reason we're fighting. I can't think of a better reason for her to stick around."

Michael glared at her, "Just because people think they're martyrs doesn't mean you should let them die."

Hope's confidence fell. Her brow furrowed and she looked down and away. Angel looked between her and Michael. Whatever that was a reference to, he knew the look. She tried to straighten back up but it came off as an uncomfortable shift.

He looked at Angel, then back at her, "We'll leave tomorrow."

And just like that, Hope nodded, walking away to the stairs and further on to her room. Michael followed her. Fred watched them go before turning to Angel. She walked over to him.

"What was that about?"

He shook his head, "I don't know."

"I thought Hope was all powerful," Gunn started, "Why is sidekick-boy giving her orders?"

"He is older than her," Wesley remembered.

"You think she's really gonna leave?" Fred asked.

Angel stared at the empty hallway, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

* * *

Angel made his way up the stairs. The others watched him like he was about to perform some miraculous tight-rope feat. They didn't want Hope to leave. He didn't want her to leave. She wasn't just some girl he'd saved from a fight, she was the reason for his fight. The being that made his eternal life with a soul more important. Michael was worried. But Angel felt he was more worried about Hope being hurt because of them than the other way around. Those glances he'd given her when she wasn't looking…they were more than companionship. They were more than mere concern.

As he walked up the hallway, he saw Michael come out of Hope's room. He paused. Michel noticed him and walked closer, a tired face and eyes to match the night.

"Is she still awake?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Little upset."

"Why do you want her to leave?"

Michael eyed him, "Why are you so desperate for her to stay? She's not your responsibility."

"I wouldn't think she was anyone's. She can take care of herself."

"Yes. She can. But add on humans and demons that she's supposed to protect and the equation doesn't add up so easily. The First would use all of you to get to her. Or the other way around. Either way, it's better if we left."

"How would that change anything?"

"If she's gone, the First can't haunt you. Send mercenaries, yeah. But the more she hangs around, the easier it is for the First to show up. It feeds off her powers."

"So when It was around me, so was she? Back in Sunnydale?"

"You just couldn't see her. Same with your friends. Those Slayers. Hope's always around her champions, she's just never been seen before."

"Do you love her?"

Michael paused, then he nodded, "It's hard not to. Don't you agree?"

Angel remained quiet.

"I know you kissed her. She didn't tell me, but I know. Let me get something straight: she's a god. You're not. Whatever you're feeling…she's out of your league. And if you don't love her, then it was just the powers you felt. Nothing more. I can't blame you for that. What you felt was purity. It's intoxicating. Don't go looking for it again."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm protecting her."

With that, he walked off. Angel didn't know where he was going. He didn't really care. What he did care about was what had been said. He stayed outside Hope's room for a moment, not sure if he should go in. It wasn't his place. She wasn't a damsel in distress anymore. He'd protected her like he'd promised. Now she didn't need it. Where did he fit in? Even for all that, he didn't want her to leave. Just being around her was stimulating. Her powers floated off her in wisps like the fumes from champagne. And he could feel them.

He opened the door slowly. It didn't creak. He saw her sitting there, on the bed, looking out the window. The sun wouldn't be up for a good amount of time, but she didn't care. She was still watching the eastern sky like it would pop up any moment.

He was about to say something when she beat him to it.

"I feel like I should be spending more time packing. But, there's nothing to pack."

"Do you want to go?"

"It's the right thing to do. The First won't be able to hurt you…not mentally, anyway."

"That's not what I asked.

"No, it's not. But it's the only answer I can give."

"What did he mean? About martyrs?"

"Don't worry about it."

"It hurt you. What happened?"

"I made a mistake. A lot of them, actually. That's the only one he can't forgive me for."

"Who died?"

"His brother. Before we were sent back, his brother would travel with us from time to time. His name was Justin. He would rally humans to fight back. He became a target. Angelus sent an army after him, after us. Michael went to head them off. But Angelus showed up. When I tried to defend Justin, he begged me not to. Told me it wouldn't make a difference. He wouldn't defend himself, so he didn't want me to, either. Angelus killed him. I watched. He died in my arms."

Angel sighed and painfully walked over to her, sitting next to her on the bed, "It wasn't your fault. He wanted it to end that way."

"I could've protected him."

"He asked you not to."

"But Michael's right. Just because you and your friends are willing to die for what's right, it doesn't mean I should keep you in harm's way."

"That's our decision. Not yours."

"If I'm gone, the First can't haunt you."

"Doesn't matter. It'll still send demons after us. Or Bringers. You're a good fighter. We could use the help."

She looked at him with a tried and grateful smile, "Thank you." She caught sight of his still open wound and winced for him, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just a scratch."

She touched the fabric around it and he inhaled sharply. She rolled her eyes and reached inside his shirt, putting her hand against the wound.

"What are you doing?"

"Relax."

Her palm started to glow. That was when he noticed her hand wounds were gone. But when her scintillating skin warmed, he felt the wound stop hurting. He could feel muscles and bones pulling back together. His skin wasn't frayed, but healed. She pulled her hand away and the glow was lost. He looked down at his nonexistent wound and then at her. She smiled.

"See? All better."

"Thanks."

"Least I could do."

Where she'd healed him was an inferno. A good one. Carnal and primal heat, aimed at the base of his being. He wanted to touch her skin. To feel that warmth. But he couldn't. He couldn't. He leaned away, trying to keep the heat from overpowering his brain. She sighed.

"What?"

"Michael. He just wants to protect me."

"Are you two involved?"

She shook her head, "We were. Not anymore. Romance isn't all too easy to make when you're facing apocalyptic battles all the time."

"He still loves you."

"I suppose he does. But even though he may lack tact and appear to have no visible logic, he knows what he's doing. I trust him."

"Do you trust yourself?"

"I wouldn't be alive if I didn't."

"Do you think you should stay?"

"I want to. Doesn't mean I should. You of all people should understand that."

He nodded, "I do. I also understand that eternal life isn't worth living if all you do is what you should."

"Quite poetic."

He stood and looked down at her, "If it makes a difference, I want you to stay. The guys downstairs do, too."

She smiled at him, "Thank you."

"If you need anything…"

"I'll let you know."

He nodded and walked out. He closed the door behind him and felt some of the heat in his gut die down. But it was still an ember. Being so close didn't make it easier. He wanted to touch her for no other reason than to feel that skin. It was ice compared to the warm river that ran below. But Michael was right; she wasn't interested and she wasn't in his league.

* * *

Hope's eyes snapped open. The dream flashed images in front of her. She tried to shake them away; dismiss them as mere figments. But they felt real. She felt terror rear its ugly head in the pit of her stomach. Had she eaten more, it might've done more. She swallowed back the fear. She'd seen pain and anguish. More than she wanted to.

She'd seen Angel.

She got out of bed and walked around her room silently. She rubbed the back of her neck. The sky was gray. It would be dawn soon. The stars would pull away.

There'd been something more to the dream. Something primal and unrestrained. It made her blush. But it wasn't her mind that created it. She'd been somewhere else. She'd seen something that wasn't hers.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she left her room. She had to make sure he was okay. Walking silently up the stairs, she found his room. Her hand touched the knob. She yanked it away. It wouldn't be wise to go in unless he was awake. His instincts were like hers. Dangerous when awoken untimely.

_He'll kill you just like he killed me_, the voice said.

Hope didn't have to look to see the form of her mother. She was standing right next to her, smelling like mothers do. Hope kept her eyes on the door.

_He'll kill you. He'll turn back into Angelus. Everything you've worked for will be lost. He'll betray you. Make you beg for mercy._

Hope faced the apparition, "I don't beg."

With that, she walked into his suite. The First didn't follow. Taking a look around, she didn't see anything out of order. The walls were dark plum. His desk had open books on it. Beyond double French doors was his bedroom. They were open. He was lying there peacefully. His chest wasn't rising and falling, but that wasn't any real concern.

For a moment, she wanted to wake him up. She wanted to know if he'd had the same dream as her. Had he seen the carnage? Could he sleep so soundly if he had? True, he was younger than her, but he had more demon. He was a vampire with a soul. Not a half-breed whose powers and soul kept hers under control.

She walked away, closing the door behind her. Just seeing him asleep, knowing he wasn't suffering her nightmare, was enough.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Keep 'em coming please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

The front double doors opened. Angel looked up. Although no one else had stayed the night beside himself and Hope, he wasn't surprised to see Fred come in so early with doughnuts. More than anyone, she was worried Hope would really leave. Fred walked over to the counter and put down the doughnuts she'd brought in.

"She's still here, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. What about doughnuts?"

Angel shrugged, "She hasn't come down yet."

"And how are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Where's Michael? Maybe he'd like some doughnuts."

"He hasn't come in."

"Oh. Okay. Anyone else in?"

"No."

Fred walked around the counter and smiled, "So, what do you think we should get Hope?"

Angel cocked an eyebrow, "For what?"

"Well, she healed you last night. And she might be leaving. Don't you think we should get her something?"

"She's just doing her job, Fred."

"I know. But she didn't have to. Doesn't she deserve something?"

"I think the best thing we can do now is just not die. Fight the First and not die doing it."

"Yeah, but—"

"Fred, no. She doesn't need anything. And what could we give someone like her? She's already got everything, seen everything."

"I guess you're right."

"It's a nice thought, though."

"Well, it's just that, I've been thinking."

Angel faced her fully, "And?"

"What if she's the one?"

"The one?"

"The one to fulfill your prophecy. She made your heart beat. With everything she's shown us, she must be the one to have control over that, right?"

"Fred…"

"Right?"

"For all we know, her Old One has that control."

"For all we know, she does. I mean, what if she's the one who can reward you?"

Angel sat down and sighed, "Fred…even if she is…that's not my place to ask."

"But don't you want to be a human?"

"I want forgiveness, Fred. If that comes with humanity…I'll take it. But it's a long time coming. With everything I've done, I know I'm not getting anywhere anytime soon. And even if Hope is the one, she has guidelines to go by. And I'm no angel. Not by a long shot."

Fred smiled wanly, "But you're my hero. My handsome man."

Angel smiled back, "That's enough for me."

The front doors opened and Wesley walked in. Angel and Fred stood and smiled.

"Good morning. I brought…doughnuts?"

His own box of sweet pastries was held at his front and Fred shrugged, "Well, there's something to be said for great minds, right?"

"And fools, of course."

"It was a nice thought," Angel confirmed.

Wesley put his box down next to Fred's and unloaded his pack onto the barstool. He looked around, "Where's Hope?"

"Up in her room. Resting."

"Is she all right?"

"Yeah."

"Should we check on her?"

"No. I think she just needs her rest."

Gunn walked in from the sunny street and his huge smiled was only outdone by his box of Dunkin Doughnuts.

"Well, I think I know what you're eating for lunch," Angel smiled.

* * *

Fred eyed the closed door, knowing Hope was still behind it. She looked to Gunn, who was busy playing chess against Wesley.

"I wonder if she's okay."

Gunn didn't take his eyes off the board, "She'll come down when she wants to."

"Doughnut?" Wes asked, his fist supporting his cheek and his elbow on the reception counter.

Gunn handed him the box and Wes pulled out a jelly-filled one. He passed the box on to Fred. She took one with chocolate and sprinkles.

Gunn moved a pawn, "Your move."

Michael walked in through the front doors and eyed everyone.

"Hey," Fred smiled.

"I see we have doughnuts."

"Yeah. We kinda went overboard."

"Is Hope around?"

Angel walked out from his office, "In her room."

"Has anyone checked on her?"

"No."

"Would you mind? I'm gonna help myself to a Bavarian."

Angel took a moment to watch Michael before he walked up to Hope's room. He knocked once on Hope's door and there was no answer. Still, he opened it and walked in, closing it behind him. He saw her sitting on the bed with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. Her back ramrod straight and yet she didn't seem at all ill at ease. Her chest and stomach were rising and falling slowly. Almost imperceptibly slow. Her eyes were still and shut. He walked closer.

"Hope?"

She didn't respond, only stayed in her meditation. Curious and somewhat worried, he placed a hand on each shoulder and shook her gently. Still, she stayed within the confines of her mind. He waved a hand in front of her face. He took her hand and felt her pulse. It was strong, but slow. His fingers could feel that thump, distant as it was.

Hope's eyed snapped open.

He jumped. But she stayed still. Her eyes weren't focused on anything. They were beyond normal sight. But then he noticed the color. They didn't have any. The only color in her eye was the pupil. The iris was bleached out. Even the blood vessels were non-existent.

"Hope?"

_I'm not in there._

He looked around. He could hear her voice. It wasn't surrounding him; it was inside his mind. But it wasn't painful or over bearing. It was like being whispered to.

He kept his glance on her, "Okay, where are you?"

He heard her giggle; _I am everywhere. Why are you here?_

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

_Why did you come to check on me?_

"Michael."

_He's here?_

"Yeah."

_Then I suppose I should return._

"Where exactly are you? A general location would be nice."

_I don't exist solely on this plane. There are places a body cannot travel. Places the physical being must be left behind for. I guess it's a fair assumption to say that I am standing right next to you, only outside your perception. Would it be easier for you if I were to return?_

"Yeah. I think so."

He watched her body slump and then straighten again. Her eyes blinked and when they opened, the color returned. They were hazel again. She focused on him while she unfolded her legs. He tried to smile.

"We've got doughnuts downstairs if you're hungry."

"Sure."

"So, are you all packed up?"

She looked around the room, "Yeah. I guess. Not much to pack."

"Do you know where you'll go?"

She shrugged, "Some third world country, more often than not."

She was distant. As odd as he'd always felt around people because they were…people, he felt more discomfort around her at the moment. Her voice was tired. Her eyes looked red. She was distracted.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just had some bad dreams."

"You wanna talk about it?"

She almost did. He saw her jaw start to open, her armor let down. But it came right back up, "No. Nothing you need to worry about."

He straightened a bit, "I'll leave, then."

She frowned, "No, I didn't mean it like that. Sorry."

He stayed close. He wanted to reach out and touch her. He wanted her to feel okay. He wanted her to know he was there.

Her head cocked to one side, like an inquisitive dog. She didn't focus on him. She wasn't focused on anything.

"Hope?"

"Something's not right."

She walked out of her room and he followed. Coming up to the balcony overlooking the atrium, they saw the others. They stopped dead upon seeing Gunn's dead sister.

"Alona?" Gunn asked disbelievingly, his face ashen.

Angel eyed the manifestation, knowing it wasn't really Gunn's sister. He and Hope walked down the stairs slowly.

"Hey, Bro," It smiled winsomely.

Hope looked at Gunn, "Ignore it." He couldn't take his eyes off the apparition and Hope swore she saw a tear form in the corner of his eye, "Gunn!" she yelled.

His attention snapped onto Hope, but only for a moment, "Alona?" he asked again.

"That's not your sister," Hope said simply, moving closer to Gunn but keeping her eyes on the First.

"The Hell it isn't," he pushed past her and moved closer to the woman who stood there.

Angel looked between Hope, Gunn and the First, "Gunn."

"I've missed you, bro."

"God, it's been…."

"Years. I know."

"Gunn, that isn't Alona," Angel said sternly.

Gunn looked over his shoulder at Angel, "What do you mean?"

"That's the First," Michael said angrily.

"Ask Hope why she let me die."

Gunn's eyes fell on Hope in disbelief.

"I didn't _let_ your sister die, Charles."

"She pulled all the strings. She arranged my death."

Gunn's eyes started to burn with renewed anger.

"Charles…that's _not_ you sister. The First is just trying to get to you. Don't let It," she took another step closer to him, the First still behind and lingering. She could feel Gunn's anger and his slight control over the overwhelming impulse to give into what the First was saying.

"Tell him the truth, Hope. Tell what you started."

"Charles, ignore It, don't let It in. You're stronger than It is," Hope continued to speak calmly and sweetly.

"Hope's right. It's not your sister," Angel backed her up.

Gunn felt the power of the pull that his sister had on him. It had been his fault that she died. He knew that. It had always been his fault. And he'd had to stake her in the end. But to lay the blame on someone else…someone he could punish for her death…

"Charles, your sister died because it was her time. You became stronger for it. The worst thing you can do is give in now. Don't ruin her memory like that. She wouldn't want that."

"How? Why? Why would you let that happen to her?" he demanded of Hope.

Hope seemed taken aback for a second, then she composed herself, "I didn't let anything happen, Charles. It was her time. Her death brought you to Angel…to Fred. Every death has a purpose. Sometimes we can't always see what that purpose is at first…but it's there. You have to accept that your sister died because she was supposed to."

Gunn's lips pressed together in anger, "No."

"What do you want me to say, Charles?"

"Tell me…you had no…control over what happened," he begged of Hope, his voice giving out on him.

"I won't lie to you, Charles."

The others, besides Michael, looked at Hope in confusion. Angel felt some form of disappointment build up, knowing that Hope could have saved Alona. But his mind told him that she was right…it had truly been for a purpose that Alona died. He pushed back that feeling and stepped closer to Hope, wanting to reassure the upset Gunn.

"There's no one to blame, Gunn. No one."

"Now we all know that's not true," the fake Alona smirked.

With that final declamation, Gunn was pushed over the edge. He lunged at Hope.

Alona disappeared.

Hope countered the attack and threw Gunn down onto his back, pinning him to the ground by his neck. She felt all of his anger and hate and fear. And she was just as upset as he.

"You think I wanted you to stake the vampire Alona became? You think I wanted that to happen?! I won't lie to you and say I couldn't have prevented it, because I could have," Gunn struggled to get up from under her pressure, "But your sister was meant to die, Charles! She was the catalyst that made you who you are today—the warrior who fights with the right army! She gave you that spark. Her demise gave you the fire you needed. And, in some small way, her own ending kept you from staking Angel when you had the chance. Think about that!" Hope said strongly, her own eyes watering over.

Gunn's eyes softened momentarily, the few tears he'd shed draining down his face and towards the floor.

Hope continued, still upset and her own voice breaking, "People die, Charles! That's how things go. And if you want to hate me because of that, go ahead. But it won't bring Alona back and it'll take you farther away from what she would've want you to do. Alona wanted you to protect people, Charles. Give yourself that comfort," she stated, taking her weight off of his figure and eyeing him as he rolled over onto his hands and knees.

The dam that had held back the pain for so long broke.

Charles Gunn cried.

On his knees, in front of his friends, he cried.

Hope knelt in front of him, taking him into her arms like he was no more than a child. And with her soothing and forgiving touch, he cried even more.

Angel, Michael, Wesley, Fred and Lorne just watched in awe and shock. And sympathy.

Gunn cried into Hope's shoulder and let all of his pain, and anger, and fear, and hate, drain away.

She looked to Angel with a sympathetic tear on her cheek.

* * *

Fred offered Gunn a glass of water, her former lover's eyes still red from the outburst earlier. He was broken for the moment. Not a strong street fighter but a man who was grieving. Or maybe feeling the grief go away. Her heart panged to hold him like Hope had. To let him know that no matter what had happened between them, she was still there for him.

"Hey…how're you doing?" she asked softly.

He took the glass of water, "I feel fine."

"What?"

"I feel fine. I feel…like some huge weight's been lifted off my shoulder…like everything's gonna be okay," he said, a small hint of happiness shining in his eyes.

Fred smiled in partial understanding, sitting next to him, "I guess Hope has that affect on people," she allowed.

"I guess so," Gunn agreed, looking at Hope in Angel's office.

Fred saw Wesley. His look made her realize why she couldn't hold Gunn. Why Gunn couldn't hold her. It was too complicated. He looked away, busying himself with some book of no consequence. Fred sighed and followed Gunn's gaze to see Hope and Angel in his office. The door was closed. She didn't know what they were talking about, but Angel had made her tea. She sat across from him as he poured her out a cup.

* * *

Angel kept his attention on Hope, her sitting in the small chair he had in his office. She seemed just as put out as Gunn, if not more so. He poured some hot tea and offered her the cup.

"You seem a little shaken up," he noticed, looking out the window to see Gunn and Fred sitting with one another.

She took the tea gratefully, "I just wasn't ready to face It. I knew It would try to tempt everyone…but not this soon. I wasn't ready," she admitted.

"Never gets easier, does it? Facing those left behind?"

"Never does."

Angel sat on the edge of his desk, "So, Alona was meant to die?"

Hope just nodded.

"Is this the part where you explain the greater good to me?" Angel asked.

Hope smiled sardonically, "I don't need to explain myself to you, Angel. It happened. Things happen. They always have, they always will," she stood, taking a sip of the tea.

Angel just eyed her for a moment, some respect finding root inside his soul. Hope wasn't trying to defend herself. It was simply the way things went…and she expected him to know that. In some strange way, he found that coldness appealing—that she had enough knowledge to know that one life lost could do so much good. For a moment, he wondered if he would ever become that cold…if he could ever dismiss the death of someone he cared about for the greater good. Would he ever become that jaded? That old?

"I don't think he ever got over her."

Hope's eyes were haunted as she stood there. He swore that if he looked hard enough, he could see what memory she was seeing. Her brow started to furrow, "She was his family. Getting over that…losing your family…it never happens."

"You might've helped."

"I just took away the guilt."

"You'd be surprised what that can do."

She met his gaze. She played with the teacup in her hand, silent. They stared at each other for a moment. There was a knock on the door. He looked beyond her to see Michael. The demigod walked in, his gaze on Hope's back. She'd not turned around. His knock didn't pull her from that haunted gaze.

"Hope…we should get going. Are you packed?"

"No."

"I'll help you, then."

She turned to face him, "No. I mean I'm not leaving."

He spared Angel a look.

"Don't blame him. I decided on my own."

He looked back to her, "It's the wrong decision."

"I think helping these people is the right thing to do."

He nodded, "Okay."

She almost smiled, "Okay?"

"I trust you. Enough to stick around, at any rate."

"Thank you."

He smiled back before pulling out of the office. Hope seemed contented. She looked down at her teacup and took another sip. Her gaze met his again. It was warm. She could soothe him with those eyes.

"I'm glad you're staying."

"So am I."

"What made you change your mind?"

She shrugged, "Don't know."

Fred rushed in. She hugged Hope. Angel saw pure confusion in those eyes. When Fred let her go, Hope gave a nervous smile. Fred's smile widened and she spared a look at Angel.

"I'm so happy you're staying."

"So I see."

"Sorry. I just…"

"It's okay."

"We should celebrate."

She looked for support. Angel didn't give any. He didn't know what exactly Fred's idea of celebrate was, but it either involved copious amounts of food he couldn't eat or a social scene he wasn't comfortable in.

"Sure. I haven't had a good party in a long while. Bar?"

Fred nodded, "Yeah," she looked at her watch, "If we go in a few hours, there'll be happy hour."

"Sounds good. Will you come?"

It took a moment for him to realize that she was talking to him. He snapped out of his reverie and nodded, "Count me in."

Michael walked past the window. Hope's eyes followed him as he walked out to the garden. She put her tea down on his desk.

"Excuse me."

She walked out after him. He watched her go. Whatever her extrasensory perception, it wasn't his. Fred watched her, too.

"What's that all about?"

Angel shifted, the edge of the desk not as comforting. He stood with arms crossed over his chest, "Don't know."

* * *

Hope walked out from under the overhanging roof to sit next to Michael on the edge of the small pond. There were no fish. It was really just a fountain. But it felt warm from the sun when she sat on it. She ran her hand on the water. Some of the falloff sprinkled her arm.

"Why'd you just say okay?"

He didn't look at her. He was lying on the rim of the fountain. His fingers were steepled behind his head and his elbows stuck out. His eyes stayed closed.

"Because you wanted to stay."

"That's never stopped you before from arguing."

He sighed, "Maybe it should've."

"What do you mean?"

"I kept you from a lot when you were younger. Friends and hobbies. They all faded away because I made them. It's been a long time since I've seen you be with other people. You glow because they don't."

She smiled, "I miss it."

"I know. Sometimes we think about the mission so much we forget the people involved."

"For good reasons sometimes."

"We've both had to give too much up. Maybe it's time you start getting some of that back."

"And you?"

"Nah. I've always been a loner."

"Fred wants to go out to a bar tonight. She's happy I'm staying. Wanna come?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her, "Sure."

"Before we go, could you do me a favor?"

"Name it."

"Apologize to Angel."

He sat up, "What f—"

"Ears of a vampire. Powers of a god. I don't miss much. I heard what you said last night."

"It needed to be said."

"Maybe. And I appreciate this big brother thing you do. But it wasn't the right time. Please don't get off on a bad foot with these people."

"He understood."

"Please? For me?"

He sighed, "If it'll make you happy."

She smiled, "Thank you."

He swung his legs off the rim of the fountain and started to walk inside. He looked back to her. She cocked an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and walked inside. She sat there in the sun, feeling it warm her skin. Still playing with the water, she took Michael's absent position. She lay down and cupped her hands behind her head. Closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth, she remained still.

* * *

Angel's gaze turned when he saw Michael in the doorway. Fred followed his stare and smiled. Michael smiled back and looked to Angel.

"Can we talk?"

Fred started for the door, "I'll leave you guys be."

She tried to get past Michael. He moved one way and so did she. As they tangoed in the doorway, Angel wished she hadn't given up her conversation so easily. Fred finally got past him and he watched her go. He gently closed the door.

"Is Hope okay?" he asked.

Michael nodded, "Yeah. Fine. Enjoying the sun. Been a while since she was flesh to feel it."

"Then…"

"I wanted to apologize. For what I said last night. It was out of line."

"Don't worry about it."

"You understand I'm just trying to protect her."

Angel walked behind his desk and sat down in the inviting chair, "So am I."

"She wants to keep you safe. I don't think you understand what she really is trying to accomplish here."

"Enlighten me."

"If she can keep you out of the First's mitts long enough, she might actually get some peace in her life. She's fought for too long. She deserves a rest."

"Are you saying I have control over when she gets a vacation?"

"I'm saying you can do a lot more to protect her than just staring google-eyed at her. You might be able to give her the peace Angelus never did."

"Is that why you don't like me? 'Cause Angelus caused her grief?"

Michael smiled, "She says you're two different beings. You. Angelus. She doesn't see that Angel, her champion, is only a hairbreadth away from being her enemy. She made that distinction and now she can't see past it."

"But you can."

"I watched you kill her."

Angel straightened in his chair.

"Oh, she didn't tell you about that? The Old One couldn't get to her in time. You beat her down. The army had softened her up, but you…you turned her into a bloody pulp. I watched you drink her dry. And when she was gone, when that light went out, you snapped her neck. So you give me one good reason why I should trust you."

"I'm not Angelus."

"No. You're not. But you're not harmless, either."

Hope walked past the large window. Opening the door, she brought a fresh smile of sunshine on the damp conversation. She smiled at both of them.

"Hey, what's up?"

Angel shook his head, "Nothing."

* * *

The seven of them walked into a rather large and rambunctious bar. Hope looked around eagerly. The walls were covered in retro posters with old icons of Hollywood. The dance floor was in the middle of the room, the bar on the left and booths around the walls. It was bathed in cool colors. A small stage and a karaoke machine were in the corner being set up. Most were demons. Some were hybrids. Unwilling to leave Lorne behind, they'd opted to go where he could follow. She walked up to the bar and found a small pack of seats together.

"What can I do you for?" the bartender asked, eyeing Hope and then her company.

"You got Jack Daniels?" she asked.

"That we do."

"Gimme the bottle," Hope smiled mischievously, taking out the money for the already large tab.

"Thank God she's not driving," Lorne smiled, ordering a seabreeze.

Angel and Wesley stayed off to the side while Gunn, Lorne, Michael and Fred were all entertained by Hope and her large bottle of hard liquor.

"You think she'll sing?" Wesley asked, thinking of the possibility.

Angel shrugged, watching Hope grab the bottle by the neck and take a large swig of its continents, "If she gets drunk enough—which may not be hard to foresee."

The demons all ran to the dance floor as a hard metal song started playing. Hope smiled. She quickly placed her bottle in Gunn's hands and ran out to the dance floor. Not caring at all that she was physically close to every demon on the dance floor, she started to dance wildly. Bright warm lights flashed and highlighted her skin.

"That girl got rhythm," Gunn noticed; he eyed her for a second, then handed the bottle over to Lorne, "Hold this."

He made his way towards Hope and started to follow her wild moves with her, the two of them dancing as if intimate. Fred almost tried to stop him. She felt the impulse. But it was Hope. She wouldn't cross lines. But still, it irked her. Gunn never seemed that intently interested in physicality before. But something made him jump at the chance to be around Hope as she danced.

"Oh," was all she could manage.

Michael, standing next to her, looked to her, "Huh?"

"Oh, nothing."

"You shouldn't try to lie to a god. We can tell."

Fred shrugged, "I've just never seen him go after…never mind."

"Ah," Michael picked up the drink he'd ordered, "He's never had dancing fever before."

Fred shifted, "It's nothing."

"It's not his fault."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's Hope's. After she comes down from being a floaty cloud of energy, the body tends to be on overdrive to compensate. She's leaking out pheromones like a geyser."

"Oh. I mean, physiologically, that's an interesting adaptation."

"I call it her mojo. She calls it having an Aphrodite's girdle. It's hard to keep the opposite sex away from her."

"So, why does it happen?"

"It's like overflow. Her powers have to cram into a really small space. So, everything normal in a human body is kinda pushed to the surface. Hormones, pheromones, all those fun chemicals."

"I guess that makes sense. Angel couldn't smell her blood. He couldn't track it when he first met her."

"Just another part of god-dom. Angelus couldn't, either. Came in handy. She's undetectable. But, don't tell her you know and don't tell the guys. It always turns out bad if they know. Makes things harder for Hope."

Fred nodded, "Sure."

* * *

Angel just watched. Hope's flirtatious outfit fit her well and she was showing off every asset she had on her body just short of breaking the law. The leather top barely covered her chest and most of her impressive abdomen was showing as the top cut into a point at the bottom. The thing tied at the neck and one small tie at the back...and that was it. Her tight, form-fitting jeans were low on her small waist and she threw her hips about wildly dancing with Gunn.

"How do they call that dancing?" Angel asked.

"I suppose Gunn's music-group like to think of themselves as being free-willed. It shows, doesn't?" Wesley caught himself watching her every move, not denying that her body was rather seductive.

"She's barely wearing anything on the top. She just might as well show it all," Angel complained, then shook his head free of the image that came afterwards, "Forget I said that," he said to Wesley, snapping him out of his daydream, too.

_He wrapped his arms around her back, feeling the silk pajamas wrinkle from his touch. _

_ He sat up slightly, Hope sitting on him, her_

Angel shook the dream from his mind.

"I'll try to."

Without warning, Hope ran at the two of them and grabbed both their hands, trying to drag them out on the dance floor.

Angel remained firmly in place although her grip did have some influence on him.

_warmth from her skin coming through the pajamas, making him crave what he knew he shouldn't have. He felt her kiss move down to his jaw line and he let himself give in, her touch too pleasing, her kiss too sensuous to give up. He reached to the_

"Oh, come on! You two need to loosen up," she declared, releasing Angel and pulling harder on Wesley, not noticing that Angel shook his head slightly, his eyes blurry.

"We don't dance," Wesley excused them both.

Hope chuckled, "Neither do I. That's the fun part—it isn't dancing!" she yelled over the loud music and the cheerful shouts.

Wesley allowed himself to be dragged onto the dance floor, Fred being pulled into the mix as well, and he felt extremely awkward as Hope tried to get him to "dance". She purposefully wedged herself between Gunn and him, one on either side.

f_ront of her and pulled her loosely collared shirt off her, her lips leaving his skin for the moment he did. They kissed again and he felt her soft skin touch his chest, tantalizing him. His face changed and he didn't think twice before he sank his fangs into her supple neck. He could feel the warm blood fill his mouth, sending waves of passion and hunger through him._

"See? All you have to do is move," she said simply.

Angel ignored the reminiscent taste of tantalizing blood in his mouth.

She grabbed Wesley's hips and made him move back and forth. He laughed in spite of himself and continued as she and Gunn got even closer while they moved about. Wedged in between the two men, Hope let herself tease both of them, not caring in any way that they were not in her league.

The song ended and Wesley was the first one off the dance floor. Gunn, Fred and Hope followed and Hope reclaimed her bottle from Lorne. She took another large drink and put it on the bar behind her. He skin was ever so slightly damp from perspiration and she took a minute to catch her breath.

A demon went up to the wraparound stage that covered the far half of the bar and started to sing with a karaoke machine. Hope smiled and turned to Angel, "Tell me you can sing," she demanded.

"I can't and I don't," Angel said sternly.

"Oh, don't give me that. A voice like yours...I bet you can and you just make yourself sound bad as an excuse," she smiled.

Angel rolled his eyes and turned to the barkeep, "Give me O positive," he asked, not ready to face the night completely sober.

"Hope, will we be graced with your lovely voice?" Lorne asked, his charm on full strength.

Hope smiled, taking another drink from the bottle, "I don't know. I'll have to have some more to drink."

Hope started clapping as the demon finished his song and walked off the stage with a burst of drunken applause.

Lorne smiled, taking a sip of his newly arrived sea breeze, "I'll go if you'll go."

Hope clinked her bottle with his small class and nodded, "You're on."

Another song started up and Michael nudged up against Hope. She looked to him. Without a word, they walked onto the dance floor. The fast paced techno wasn't the place for a seductive dance. But somehow Hope managed to pull it off. Michael was behind her, his chest to her back, enthralled by her. Angel swallowed to see her stir and writhe with the song. He took another sip of his blood. Wesley and Gunn, too, were watching. But Angel could do more than just watch. As she danced, she sweat. He could get a whiff of her. It was intoxicating. Power reeked from her. He wondered if any other vampire could smell her, too. Or had his brush with her power given him that sole talent?

* * *

True to her word, Hope clambered behind the karaoke machine. Smiling nervously, she inhaled so deep her shoulders shrugged. She waited for the song to begin. As the tune started, the crowd fell quiet. Hope, her eyes not focused on anything, started singing "I Hope You Dance". Angel smiled at her choice.

He just watched her, awed by her harmonious voice.

"Angel…" Wesley asked him.

"Shhh."

Wesley found himself captivated by her voice as well and realized that not a soul in the bar was talking...and, considering the crowd, that was quite an accomplishment on her part. Looking over to Michael, he saw that same look Angel had: awestruck by the perfect harmonious chords.

By the last, long-held note, the very same crowd was on its feet, applauding and cheering her to all extents including whistles and hollers and well-meant rude come-ons.

Wesley caught Lorne's facial expression and realized he'd never seen one like it before. It was full of reflection and compassion. And, most of all, it was the face that meant Hope was anything but evil.

* * *

Pulling up to the Hyperion and parked the car in the valet area next to Angel's, Hope stepped out of her Element. Making it appear earlier in the night, they had all become aware of her ability to materialize what she needed.

"That was my idea of a party."

As they all walked up to the Hyperion's double doors, Hope froze. Michael, the closest one to her, eyed her, holding the others back.

"Hope?" he asked.

She swallowed hard, "Something…" she whispered.

"What something?" Michael asked urgently, knowing she had better foresight than he did and could probably pick up on any threat earlier than he could.

"I can feel it," she said choppily.

"What can you feel, Hope?" Michael nearly yelled at her, taking her shoulders in his hands and giving her one swift shake.

"What's going on?" Angel asked.

"It's coming…" she kept her eyes straight ahead, still stiff with fear and dread.

"What does it look like, Hope?" Michael asked.

"I can't…," she started to tear.

"Hope!" Michael yelled, shaking her again.

"Can't…I can't…," she repeated, her tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Don't give in! Come back, Hope! Come back!" Michael shook her again more violently.

Her wide eyes portrayed her inner fear and her chest seemed to cease rising and falling. Angel watched as her jugular pumped furiously, her pulse surging out of control. Michael shook her once more and then she gasped for air as if she'd been deprived of it forever.

She started to sob openly and she collapsed to her knees, her face in her hands and racking with each new sob. Michael eyed her, a brotherly care seeming to come over him.

"Come on. Let's get you inside," he said softly, offering his hand to her.

As she refused to move, Angel walked closer, "I'll carry her," he offered.

Michael nodded and they walked into the Hyperion. Laying Hope in her bed where she cried for some time, Angel watched Michael come up next to her. He walked out, closing the door behind the two of them. He walked downstairs and listened to her sobs. He knew Michael was there with her, trying to help her deal with whatever she'd seen.

He walked over to his office. Lorne followed him. Angel closed the door behind the anagogic demon. Lorne looked to him, his face tired.

"You wanna talk about Hope?"

"She's the real deal, Angel Cakes."

"What did you see?"

"Not much. What I did see was fractured. Incomplete. I mean, with five and a half million years of history, there's a lot to go through. But what I got was sad and personal. She's beyond anything we've ever dealt with. My connection is with the Powers that Be. She's above them. In every sense of the word."

"Did you see anything about what happened to her outside?"

"No. But there's a lot going on with her…around her."

Angel straightened, "You're not just talking about what you read in her."

"The dreams, the feelings…it's natural. That girl has a demon in her. And it wants out."

"Is she dangerous?"

"Her powers are immense. They're not dangerous. She is. What woman isn't? Gunn and Wes feel it too. The only reason it's hitting you more than them is because you're not human."

"I'm more like her."

"You couldn't fight that feeling with every weapon in the world. No one can resist animal attraction. Let alone demonic animal attraction. The power she has…she's hard to resist. Being a hottie doesn't hurt either."

Angel sighed, "You said she'd had dealings with Angelus?"

"He took everything from her. She knows him. I mean, really knows him."

"I killed her."

Lorne nodded, "I got that part. But that was Angelus."

"Michael doesn't think so."

"They have a history. More _his_ story than hers."

"He still thinks I'm the enemy."

"Hope doesn't."

* * *

Two hours later, Michael came down and seemed worn out, his eyes red. Fred was the first to approach him.

"Is she okay?"

He nodded, "Shaken up, but okay."

"What happened to her?" Wesley asked, staying near the reception counter.

Michael sighed, "She saw something. She won't tell me what it was," he admitted.

"A vision?" Angel asked.

"In a sense. Not what your friend Cordelia had from the Powers. These are from Him. So her sight is a bit different. It's actually very much like Drusilla's. Just a random image…no real message or context behind it. That's why they're so terrifying to her. She has no idea when they'll happen. It could be in five minutes or five years," he explained slowly, obviously worn out.

Angel felt a twinge of sympathy for Hope. If her visions were anything like Drusilla's, he knew they could be vague and unpredictable. That alone could cause problems in her mind…sorting out the real from the foreseen. He'd taken advantage of that fact as Angelus when he drove Dru mad. It had been easier for him because she had the visions. She couldn't always discern where reality ended and where her nightmares began. He cringed to think there was a blurry line between the two.

He put his hands in his pockets and thought for a moment more, "Is there anything we can do?" he asked.

"Just get some rest. She should be better when we wake up. I'm gonna stay with her so she knows we're here," he explained.

"If she wants anything…to eat or drink…," Angel started.

"I'll manage. I have a feeling she'll just want to rest," he sighed.

They all seemed content with that and, sensing the need to be close, all stayed within the hotel again, moving to their rooms. Angel walked past her room to get to his own and heard her still sniffling, Michael not far behind him and walking into her room after Angel passed it.

He got into his own bedroom. He pulled open the little fridge and pulled out a quart of blood. Disgustingly cold, he made himself drink it, the memories from his dream scaring him. He put down the quart container of blood and capped it, not inclined to drink right at the moment. He replaced it in the fridge and walked over to his bed, closing the double French doors behind him. Undressing for the night, he slid under his covers and turned out the light, the darkness reassuring.

Two floors down, Hope remained curled up, her knees held close to her chin and her eyes watering. Michael walked in and offered her a glass of water.

"You should drink something," he suggested.

"No…thank you," she said, her voice weak.

"Can you tell me anything?" he asked, sitting on a chair next to her bed.

She shook her head, "I don't want to talk about it," she whimpered.

He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, "You should try to rest. It'll all be better in the morning."

She nodded, slipping under the covers and pulling them up close to her chin. As she lay there, she couldn't help but rub her palms, feeling an itch in them from the vision she'd had, feeling a cramp-like pain that shouldn't have been there.

* * *

Angel awoke with a jerk, his mind racing from the nightmare. Some part of his mind registered the pain he'd been feeling and he tried to shake it off. He had to hope it was just a dream. He had to believe it was just a nightmare. But he'd heard his own screams, his inhuman and primal screams. He stood warily from the bed, heading towards the sink in the bathroom.

He turned on the faucet groggily, not really paying attention to anything else besides his dream at the moment. He wanted to cup his hands and splash water on his face. He knew that would bring him around. He did so and, upon bringing his hands to his face, he realized the water was cold...and thicker than it should've been.

He opened his eyes fully, looking down at his cupped hands.

He nearly yelped but held it back upon seeing a gaping hole in each palm. He could see the sink through them, the water running right through his hands. He quickly turned on the light, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

He swallowed hard and felt pain. His own pain. He looked in the mirror for no real reason and then looked back at his hands. The holes were easily the size of a silver dollar and blood dripped into the sink. Angel felt himself start to shiver at the sight unwillingly, his mouth becoming dry and his mind racing.

Blood continued to drip into the sink. He held his hands under the still running water and winced as the water seemed to cause more pain.

* * *

Hope's eyes shot open and she inhaled sharply, "Angel."

Michael, still awake, came closer, "What?"

"Something's wrong with Angel," she eyed him, her voice carrying the possible implications.

As Michael ran from the room, Hope looked at her palms, feeling a warmth in them. She saw tiny drops of blood seeping from small wounds in the center of each palm. On the backside of her hands, too, was blood. She swallowed hard, sitting up and shaking her head to clear her hair from her face. She felt a tear fall onto her cheek from her overflowing eyes.

Looking away, she imagined them gone. Whatever stigmata wounds these were, she wanted them gone. Looking back, they were. Only the blood, not the scars from the wounds. Hope stood shakily and forced herself to walk up towards Angel's room. On her way up, she looked at her own hands, the scars still there to prove what had happened. She shook, but tried to control herself.

She walked into his room and saw Michael helping Angel with his wounded hands. The two of them looked up at her as she entered.

"Hope," Michael started, obviously worried about her.

"Leave us," she asked of him softly, moving towards Angel as Michael moved towards her.

He eyed her for a moment and then left the room, closing the door behind him. Hope sat next to Angel on the bed and took his bleeding hands in her own. The silver sheen associated with her healing touch enveloped their hands and Angel felt his own hands being freed from the pain.

"This should help."

He kept his eyes trained on her, "You knew it was happening."

"It happened to me, too."

"Why?"

"I don't know how…but somehow…we're connected. I think…when I healed you…a small part of my essence stayed with you. Just enough to let me into your brain," she explained choppily.

"So whatever happens to me happens to you?"

"I'm not sure. My wounds weren't as severe as yours. But…I can feel your mind in my own. More so than my normal powers allow."

"How can you read me? I'm a vampire," he pointed out.

She smiled wanly as his hands finished healing, "Comes with the omniscient gig," she allowed, then her mood changed again, "This—," she held up her own hands to show the small scars, "This is just what I saw earlier. What I dreamt about last night."

"What else did you see?"

She shook her head, "Just palms being impaled. I saw a demon…it was too dark to see what kind. It was harsh…and cold," her eyes focused on what she'd seen, not on the room around her, "And I heard screams. I couldn't tell if they were human or animal…and there was blood. Blood draining down the arms, dripping onto the ground…so much blood," she started to tear again.

Angel didn't know what to say. He just let her try to regain her composure. She wiped her nose with the back of her palm and sniffled once, rubbing her eyes dry. She looked up at him, "I'm sorry. I don't know anything else," she admitted.

He nodded, "Don't worry about it. We'll deal."

She sighed, "I don't know what it could've been."

He stared at her, "Maybe you're just having nightmares."

"Huh?"

"About what Angelus did to you."

"What Angelus…Michael told you?"

"Only the really good parts."

"I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you have enough ghosts that haunt you."

She stood and left the bedroom, walking past the double doors.

"Hope."

She faced him.

"Thank you."

She smiled before walking out.

Hope walked back into her own room and sighed upon seeing Michael there, waiting for her. He smiled wanly.

"You should get some sleep," he suggested.

She nodded, "I'll be fine when I wake up," she promised.

"Well, good night," he started to walk out of her room.

"Michael…can you stay here tonight?"

He nodded, "Sure."

As they clambered into bed, Michael let Hope lay her weary head on his chest, draping an arm over her shoulder and kissing her forehead. She sighed heavily and dreamily, letting herself give into the tired vertigo that was calling to her.

He just lay there with her, keeping her secure when she needed it. He knew her asking him to stay with her had nothing to do with any relationship they'd once had. It was just a needed thing, something she needed to get her through the night. Had he not been there, she might have called upon the Old One to watch over her. So old and jaded but so fresh and naïve, she still needed the love only a good friend could give to console her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Fred rolled over, expecting Charles to be there. But he hadn't been there for a while now. But still, every morning, she rolled over, as if it had all been a dream. But it wasn't. She put her hand on what had been his pillow. Charles was downstairs, in some other room. But not this room. Staying under the warm sheets, she just looked around her room. Some of the paint had faded and her rant-writings were coming through. Off on the far wall was the blue sharpie picture of her and Angel on the horse. Closer were mathematical equations. That had been a different time. A different person.

She sat up slowly and curled her knees up to her chin. She was hungry. Her window was bathed in curtains but the graying sky outside was getting brighter. She swung her feet onto the cool floor and walked over to her dresser. Pulling out some jeans and a tank top, she switched drawers and pulled out undergarments.

Dressing, she kept tired eyes on the gray sky outside. The others wouldn't be awake. She could probably get to Dunkin Doughnuts and back before anyone else woke up. She wanted something sweet. And she wanted some coffee.

Walking down the hall, she stopped when she saw her dead professor, Oliver Seidel.

* * *

Hope woke up feeling the relief from the pain of the night. She opened her eyes and smiled warmly. Her mind was starting to turn the gears.

He was still there. And she was still in his arms, laying with her head on his chest and feeling secure. He'd stayed with her the entire night. She considered him and sighed, shimmying to get out from under his arm. He remained asleep. He'd told Angel about the more disturbing things Angelus had done. And, although she didn't know what exactly that entailed, she knew it would make things hard for Angel. Knowing Michael, he'd pulled out the worst of the worst. That meant Angel knew about her death. Because Michael had been forced to watch, Angel would be forced to know about it.

The night had cleared up everything in her mind—besides shocking the living hell out of it. She moved to the bathroom and gently closed the door, hoping to let Michael sleep some more. After turning on the water, she took off the clothes from the night and stepped into the steaming freshness of the tub. The water ran past her silk skin, dripping to the basin below. The water was near scathing but she paid no mind to the temperature. It was still refreshing.

She turned and let the water fall over her hair, rinsing it of her tension. She could feel the wonderful release of her mind as the fresh water washed away the fear of the First. It was so wonderful.

Her eyes snapped open and she turned off the water. She felt It.

* * *

He was just staring at her. His comb-over white hair, his beedy eyes. That wound she'd given him when she'd clocked him with the butt of the crossbow. It was all there. He was still in the suit. Only now, he was smiling at her. It was evil.

"Hello, Fred."

"Professor Seidel."

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're not real. You're the First."

"Do I look 'not real'?"

"You're not."

"No. Not anymore. Not since you and Gunn killed me. I begged you to help me. And your boyfriend snapped my neck."

"You deserved it."

"No one deserves to die, Fred. Not even me. But you never considered that, did you? Just did what you wanted. Sent me to hell."

"No more than what you did to me."

"Perhaps. But how does it feel? Being a murderer?"

"I didn't kill you."

"Of course not. You just watched your boyfriend do it. Did it scare you? Make you gag inside? Hear my neck snap and watch him toss me overboard?"

"Charles was trying to protect me."

"Did it work? Are you still innocent and sweet? Are you still a good little girl?"

"He did what he had to."

"Not convincing."

"Doesn't matter."

"Then why aren't you in his arms?"

Fred couldn't say anything. Her voice was gone. Her confidence was gone, shredded away by harsh words, by harsh truths. She just stared at the image of her professor.

"Hey!"

They both turned to look down the hall. Hope was standing in jeans and a bra, soaking wet. Her hair dripped onto the carpet. She advanced on them. Fred ran over to her, behind her. Hope didn't spare her a glance, but she didn't need to. Fred knew she was concerned.

"You okay?"

Fred nodded, "Yeah."

"Murderer."

Hope took a step forward, "Back off."

"Make me."

Fred yelped as Hope's fist turned a bright red. Her hand opened up and a sphere of fire was suspended above it. She chucked it at the First. It was hit. It fell and shook It's head. Hope straightened with another sphere already above her palm. The image of Professor Seidel stood.

"You made Charles do it. Without a word, he did it because of you. You made him a murderer."

"I can throw these all day."

"No need. I'm satisfied."

The First took It's real shape and became a hovering black and red, devil-horned creature with clawed hands. It dissipated. Hope's fist curled and the sphere disappeared. She looked to Fred.

"Are you okay?"

With swollen eyes, she tried to nod. Hope went to put a hand on her shoulder. But Fred was quicker. Embracing her, Fred cried. Hope, still soaked, shook the wet hair from her face. Some of it dripped onto Fred's shoulders. But Fred didn't care. Hope held her.

"It's okay. It's gone."

"I turned Charles into a murderer."

"No. No, that wasn't your fault."

"He killed Seidel because of me."

"It's not your fault. I promise. Come on, let's go downstairs."

With Fred still sobbing on her soaked shoulder, Hope guided her downstairs. Sitting her on the circular couch in the atrium, she rummaged around the counter shelves for cocoa. Turning the water on, she walked back over to Fred. Materializing a shirt for herself, she pulled it over her head. She shook most of the water from her hair and it started to curl. She poured the hot water in the mug and stirred the cocoa powder around.

Sitting next to Fred, she handed over the hot mug. Fred took it solemnly. Hope sighed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"I knew. I knew it wasn't Professor Seidel. But what It said…"

"That's what It does."

"But It was right."

"About Charles?"

"He murdered Professor Seidel because of me."

Hope sighed again, "We do terrible things for the people we love. Do you forgive him?"

Fred nodded, "Of course."

"Then you just have to forgive yourself."

She looked at her, "How do I do that?"

Hope gave a cockeyed smile, "If I knew, I wouldn't have to fight this war. Just take it easy. The sun will be up in an hour or so."

"Thank you."

Hope's eyes warmed and her smile widened, "It's what I do."

Fred leaned into her and let her hold her. Hope looked out at her own guilt, not knowing exactly how anyone could get rid of it. The guilt made them susceptible to the First. But without it, they wouldn't be human.

* * *

Gunn walked into the atrium to see Fred leaning on Hope's shoulder. Hope's gaze found him but Fred's didn't. Hope smiled tiredly. Gunn walked out, seeing Fred drinking something from a mug. The small chocolate stain on her upper lip made him smile. Cocoa.

"Morning."

"Morning," Hope smiled.

Fred smiled too, if only halfheartedly, "Hey."

"You guys okay?"

"Fred had a little run-in with the First."

"You okay?"

She nodded, sitting up straight, "Better."

Hope stood from her vigil and stretched her back out. She walked over to the still warm water and pulled out another mug, putting a tea bag in it. She poured the water in and sat there at the counter.

"We the only ones up?"

"Yeah, so far. Angel and Michael had a rough night."

"What happened?"

Hope sighed, "My vision kept them both up. Michael kept an eye on me and somehow it affected Angel."

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's probably just tired."

Gunn sat next to Fred. Hope noticed her uncomfortable shift. She took a sip of her tea. She heard footsteps. Unalarmed, she looked up and saw Angel make his way tiredly down the stairs. He was rubbing the back of his neck. His brow furrowed when he saw the three of them awake already. She looked to Fred.

"You feel up to getting us some breakfast?"

"Doughnuts?"

"What else?"

"Sure."

She handed over some money for the food before changing her gaze to Gunn, "Could you go with her? Just in case."

Gunn nodded, "Yeah. Any special order?"

"Jelly-filled for me," she smiled.

He smiled back and stood, waiting for Fred. She looked awkwardly back to Hope and then walked out with him. On their way out, Fred smiled a good morning to Angel. He watched them go before looking to Hope.

"Hey."

"Morning."

"How long have you guys been up?"

"Five or so. Fred had a visit from the First. Shook her up a bit."

He walked behind the counter, looking through the minifridge. He pulled out orange juice and blood. Reaching over to Cordelia's old desk, he pulled over some cups. "Who was It?"

"Seidel."

"That'll do it. And you?"

"I just chased It off," she braced her head on her hand, her elbow on the back of the couch. She yawned, "Long day already."

Angel walked over and handed her a glass of orange juice. She smiled tiredly, "Thanks."

He sat next to her with his own liquid breakfast. They gently clinked glasses before taking that first sip. Hope sighed.

"It just keeps coming."

Angel didn't have anything to say to that. He just took another drink, "You don't know of any way to keep It away?"

She shrugged, "There are things, yes. But they're not here. They're back home. The other dimension."

"We can't get them?"

"We could. Opening a dimensional rift isn't too complicated. But going there, besides being uncomfortable…it isn't safe. Not for humans."

"We could go. And Lorne."

"And leave the others here for the First to pick on?"

"Michael could—"

"Michael can't fend the First off. He doesn't have enough power."

"And you do?"

She shrugged, "My powers allow me to exist across different planes of existence. The First can only exist on a plane that makes It immaterial. I can choose to be on both planes and interact with both It and others."

"So when you said you chased It off…"

"I threw a fireball at it."

He paused, unsure if she was joking or not. A restrained chuckle came out and he shook his head. She eyed him.

"What?"

"A fireball?"

"Yeah. I can control elements."

"Okay. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Levitate. Cook. And guess lottery numbers. Never got the hang of that one."

"Well, that answered my next question."

She chuckled.

"So, show me."

"What?"

"That fireball thing."

"It's not a parlor trick."

"Make an exception."

She shook her head and smiled. She held her fist up ahead of her. The loosely curled fingers started to glow red. As they uncurled one by one, Angel saw the smallest, marble-sized orb of flame. As her fist opened completely, it grew to the size of a bowling ball. Keeping his distance, he almost smiled, awed by the control she had. She smiled, too.

"Watch this."

With her hand still open, she pivoted her wrist and the sphere changed. She now had a rotating orb of water. He smiled.

"You can touch it."

He reached out and felt the water. It was perfectly formed and rebounded as he took his hand away, shaking off the droplets. She slowly closed her fist and the sphere descended and shrank. Opening her fist back up, it was gone completely.

"For it not being a parlor trick, that was amusing."

Hope sighed, "If we went to that place, we couldn't leave anyone here."

He noticed they were back on the original topic. He nodded, "What are we going after?"

* * *

Hope opened up the book—the Higher Light—that had been stowed in her drawstring knapsack. Dust and dead page-bugs were abound as she opened it. She laid her clean, ivory hand on the page and the text illuminated in a rich, blood-red ink. To any casual bystander, the text would appear to be nothing but bubbles and dots. But it was a language. One only the highest of Powers could read. Not even Michael was completely fluent in it.

She flipped through the parchment pages, smelling the aromas of old days; the smells triggered memory after memory. Much as she hated to admit it, this single volume was the closest thing she had to an autobiography. Most of the pages were filled with His descriptions of her trials. Some were full of mystical references that were available to her. The pages continued to flip by, a daguerreotype here, a wood carving there. One caught her eye.

She flipped past the reference and looked at the next picture…the one she wanted to see. She looked over her shoulder at Angel, "This is it."

"You think they would help?"

"I do. There's no guarantee. But it might make a difference."

"What do you think?"

"Your call."

He eyed the page and picked up the book; he couldn't read the transcription, but he knew the power those pictures held. He could feel it as his hands curved around the loose and mottled spine.

"Tell me what we need to do."

* * *

Fred smiled when Gunn opened the door for her. They hadn't said much. He'd tried to strike up a conversation, but she'd let it drop. He'd given up. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk, it was just that she didn't know what to say when he asked what the First had said. Walking into the atrium, she saw Hope on the phone and Angel looking in a musty book. Wesley was the first to notice them.

"Morning."

"Hey. We brought doughnuts."

Hope started yelling at the phone. Her voice was deeper than usual. Her tone was perturbed. And she was using rank when addressing the person on the other end.

"Who she talking to?"

"The government."

They both stared at him.

"She and Angel have a plan to keep the First out of the Hyperion. Or at least away from us. They said It came to see you. Are you all right?"

Fred nodded, "Yeah. Just a bit shaken up."

"How's the government gonna help us?"

Wes only shrugged. Hope raised her voice again. They all stared at her. Angel walked out from behind the counter with the book, "They're called Fedoins," he said, laying the musty book down for everyone to see the picture within. The picture showed a group of large crystals. They appeared to be shining. Each was a different shade and had a natural formation to it.

"What are they?" Fred asked, looking at the daguerreotype, enthralled by the beauty she saw.

The phone was slammed down on the receiver. Hope walked over. He looked to her. Without missing a beat, she smiled as if the berating phone conversation had never occurred.

"Basically, they hold energy. Think of them like batteries. Once charged, they should help."

"What do they do?" Gunn asked.

"They can ward off the First. But, the range is limited. One wouldn't cover more than a bedroom. But, it would provide some protection."

"What about Bringers?" Wesley asked.

Hope shook her head, "Doesn't faze them."

"So, we get these and the First can't make personalized house calls?"

"Essentially. But, we have to get them," Hope crossed her arms over her chest.

"This is where the danger comes in," Angel stated.

Hope nodded, "They're back in my old dimension. I was trying to get us a militarized jet to get over there. Make the ride faster, but they're having trouble getting me clearance."

"And where exactly are they?"

"England. Stonehenge. Under it, actually.

"So how do we get there to get these things?" Fred asked.

"Hope's going to open the dimensional barrier. Once we get clearance, we can fly to England before she does it. But we can't leave anyone here. So, everyone has to come. We can't risk leaving the First any unprotected targets," Angel eyed each of them.

"When do we leave?" Wesley asked.

"As soon as she gets clearance."

"Planning a trip?"

They looked over Fred's shoulder's to see Michael. Hope stood straighter and looked to the others, "Pack some clothes. We might be there for a day or two."

With that, she walked away. Michael followed her.

* * *

Michael walked up behind Hope as she packed a small duffel bag of clothes and necessities. His arms were crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes was decidedly a perturbed one.

"This is suicide."

"Not in Angel's mind."

"I could see bringing Angel and Lorne…but the humans? What kind of trouble are you asking for?"

"Do you suggest we leave them here for the First to pick off?" she asked, stopping her chore.

"In the grand scheme of things, they don't matter, Hope. _We_ matter. They're just humans."

Hope turned on him, "We were once _just_ humans."

Michael scoffed, "You were never _just_ human. You were always more. You know that."

"I won't discuss this with you, Michael. The Fedoins are the only chance they have to fight the First on their own account. They need them."

"But that doesn't mean—"

"End of discussion," she said, starting to walk out of the room.

Angel walked in and saw her and Michael squaring off; he put his hands into his pockets.

"You think I'm making a wrong call?"

"I think you're ignoring the danger your friends could be in."

"They're in more danger if they stay here," Hope reiterated.

"I trust Hope. She says this might buy us some time; I'm willing to give it a shot. Why? You don't trust her?"

Michael glared at the vampire without saying a word and walked out of the room. Hope sighed.

"He's grumpy."

"I take it he doesn't like it over there."

She shifted, "It's hard. Going back. That place almost did him in a dozen times over. It finally got me. It's strange, to say the least."

"I don't plan on making it a long trip."

"I agree with you there."

"How exactly do you know the government?"

She smiled, "I know several. More importantly, they know me. Governments aren't as blind as people think."

"Who's your connection? The president?"

"No. Rumsfield. He's been there long enough."

Fred came through the door with the phone in one hand and the other covering the mouthpiece, "It's for you."

Hope took it and waited. After saying her name, she waited. Angel could hear the muffled voice on the other end of the line. Fred, too, waited anxiously for the conversation to be over. But Hope remained still. She listened intently. Her jaw worked and her eyes turned to slits, but she stayed patiently waiting for the voice on the other end to stop that chattering. Still, she fumed.

"You listen here, toady! You tell that bastard to give me my clearance or I will make more house calls than he wants to deal with! Remind him who he is pissing off and tell him I want that jet…No, I don't care if he's busy….Shut up and put him on…Don't you hang—hello?"

She harrumphed and pressed the talk-end button. Sighing heavily, she walked out of the room. Angel and Fred followed.

"Colorful conversation," Wesley noted, looking up at her stomping feet.

"Bastard won't give me my clearance."

"Throw a fireball at him," Angel stuck his hands in his pockets.

Hope glared at him.

"Well, maybe it's for the best," Michael sat on the circular couch. Hope collapsed next to him, slamming the phone down on the cushion.

"Don't they know who you are?" Fred asked.

"Sometimes they don't care."

"So how are we getting to England?" Gunn asked.

"If she's not getting clearance, we're not going," Michael reiterated.

"Doesn't Wolfram & Hart have a jet?" Wesley spoke up.

Angel nodded, "Yeah. And we do own it. We just haven't moved in yet. We could use it."

Hope almost smiled, "How soon can it be ready?"

"I'll put in a call; tell them to get it ready."

"Okay, then," she looked from Angel to Michael, "Can you get us weapons?"

Michael nodded half-heartedly, "Half hour. Maybe forty-five minutes."

"See you then."

"We have weapons here," Angel pointed at the weapon's cabinet.

"Where we're going, we need something a bit more high-tech," Michael said, walking out of the Hyperion.

As the last ray of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, Angel walked onto the runway strip. They'd been waiting in the car until that last bit of sunshine was gone. Now, with the golden glow still left in the far west of the sky, Angel walked up to his jet. Hope and Michael were behind him, side by side, carrying huge duffel bags. What was inside them he didn't know and hadn't asked. Behind them were the others. An assistant opened the doors and Angel turned to watch the others board. Hope paused next to him. Her aviator glasses reflected the fiery sky.

"We need to get rid of the pilots."

"What?"

"They can't come with us."

"Can you fly this thing?"

She took a good look up and down the aircraft and then looked back to him, "Cinch."

"Alone?"

Michael jumped down the stairs to land next to them. Hope smiled, "Not alone."

Angel boarded the jet and walked up to the cockpit. Knocking, the pilot opened the door. He and his co-pilot stared back at them behind sun-shielded helmets.

"Not this trip."

"Sir?"

"Change of drivers."

Cautiously, the two unbelted themselves and Angel made way for them to disembark. Hope threw her duffel up in the compartment before shimmying into the cockpit with Michael. As they buckled in, Angel stuck his head in, watching them.

"You sure you can do this?"

Hope laid one hand on the dashboard and, without flipping a switch, the computers hummed to life and the engines fired.

Angel nodded, "Just checking."

She looked over her shoulder through the small doorway that showed the main compartment of the jet, "Everyone seated?" she asked.

They were all strapped in against the plush leather seats and nodded quickly.

Michael listened through his headset and nodded to Hope, "I love it when they get the all clear that fast."

Holding onto the throttle and pushing it forward slightly, the jet started to move forward. Hope continued to push the throttle, the jet going faster and faster until the increased gravity pushed her back into the seat slightly. Every little bump was magnified under the wheels and she could feel the anxiety coming from the main compartment as the two front wheels of the jet finally lifted off the ground.

Angel felt the plane jerk. With the door to the cockpit open, he saw warning lights go off and sirens blare. He raced up to the front of the jet and saw Michael struggling to keep the plane under control.

"I thought you could fly this thing!"

"She's having a vision!"

Angel took another look at her, watched her convulse, unsure what he could do to help her. He stayed outside the cockpit and reached in, taking her face in his free hand. Her eyes were welded shut and her fists were clenched.

They continued to ascend quickly. With the jet at a cruising altitude, Michael pressed on the autopilot and took off his headset. He unbuckled himself and reached over to her. She was still convulsing.

"She's not coming out of it."

"That's bad?"

"Get her to the back."

With Michael's help, Angel got her out of the tightly packed cockpit. He carried her to the back. Even with the autopilot on, Michael stayed in the cockpit, looking back on Hope.

Angel put her on the floor with her head in his lap, trying to control her as she continued to shake.

"Hope! Wake up! Come on!"

He took her jaw in one hand and gave a gentle shake. He took her hand and felt her strength as she squeezed it.

"Come on, Hope, come back!"

She gasped. Her eyes shot open. Still clenching Angel's hand like a lifeline, her eyes darted around.

"What did she see?" Michael called from the front.

Angel wasn't about to ask her. She was too shaken up. He ran his hand down her face. Her eyes met his. Still stunned, she just stared at him. Her breathing slowed and her tight grip loosened. He smiled at her, trying to keep her focused on him. Michael finally ran back and took her hand away from Angel.

"Hope, what did you see?"

Angel pushed him back, "Give her a minute."

Michael stood, hovering there. Hope blinked once or twice, becoming lucid. She looked around slowly. She sat up on her own.

"Fred, get her something to drink."

Hope tried to stand. She faltered. Angel braced her, helping her over to a seat. When Fred came back with a plastic cup of juice, Hope took it, sipping at it like a bird.

"You okay?" Angel asked, staying at her front, hunching down to be on eye-level with her.

She nodded, "Yeah. Thanks."

"What did you see?" Michael pressed.

She closed her eyes, "There were bones…blood…and I saw a demon."

"What did it look like?"

"Uh, big ugly dog with horns."

"Sounds like the Fedoin resting place."

"Have either of you been there before?" Angel asked.

Michael nodded, "I have. She hasn't."

"What else can you tell us?" Angel asked softly, looking over his shoulder momentarily to see Fred and the others eyeing Hope.

She blinked heavily, reliving the scene laid out before her, "There was fire. And vines…" she trailed off, unsure.

Michael harrumphed, "Well, that's new."

She eyed him, "Go back to the cockpit. Keep an eye out," she instructed, regaining her demeanor.

He nodded, cast a stray glance at Angel and then walked past the others towards the front of the jet. Angel watched him go and then sat next to Hope.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

Hope eyed him for a moment, "Better."

Angel watched her recover. With the pain subsided, she became a god again. She relaxed and looked to Fred.

"Thanks."

"Glad you're feeling better."

"Me, too."

"Hope!" Michael called from up front.

Hope nodded and stood. She stumbled a bit and Angel steadied her. She shook her head and stood on her own, "I should get back up there."

"You need to rest."

"No, I need to get us through every restricted air zone between here and Stonehenge."

"Hope…" he started.

She took his wrist under her palm, holding it. Her eyes met his. He felt a jolt. Invisible, but fully mental. She put on a smile.

"I'll be fine. Really."

She let his wrist go and walked up to the cockpit. He didn't watch her go. His mind was still feeling that jolt she'd delivered to him. It wasn't painful, but it was powerful. He'd seen something through her eyes. Staying focused on that small insightful touch, he didn't see Fred sit next to him.

What had she tried to show him?

Her touch had let him see something alien. But what was it? Was it nothing more than another aftershock? No, it couldn't have been. She'd made the deliberate touch, the purposeful eye contact. But what had she tried to show him?

* * *

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Michael asked, seeing the beginning of the English landscape out the front window.

Next to him, Hope nodded. She looked over her shoulder at the others, grateful the rest of the trip had been uneventful.

"It's going to get rough in a few minutes," she called back.

Diverting her attention back to the foreground, she pulled off her headset and strapped herself in tightly to the seat. She replaced the headset and sighed, outstretching her hands and turning off the autopilot, letting Michael control of the jet. Her outstretched hands gave way to energy and she tensed as a small, circular orb of opal haze appeared in front of the jet. It grew and eventually the other dimension could be seen through it, a simple tear in reality forming. Michael guided the jet closer, seeing the very beginnings of Stonehenge below, knowing the disturbance was forming right over the ancient formation.

The jet rattled, the sensors and GPS monitors going crazy as the nose of the jet seemed to disappear into the dark, inky evil that lingered on the other side. Hope continued to keep her gaze ahead, the jet almost all the way through.

The moment it was, the hole was gone and Hope relaxed. She took control of the jet from Michael and kept an eye out, knowing there was bound to be a military base somewhere in the Hellhole she'd brought them into.

Sure enough, a transmission came over her headset asking her where she'd come from and what her intentions were. She and Michael exchanged a glance, Michael answering the hail. He tried to calmly tell them that they'd been blown off course and didn't mean to intrude over the militarized air space.

Hope heard a different language and bit her lips, wishing she'd known it. And, by the look on Michael's face, he didn't know the language either. The creature, breaking back into rough English, asked about the humans aboard. Obviously they'd already been scanned and the leaders of the base decided humans were fun to shoot out of the sky. Hope knew that she, herself, didn't register as human, but as a demonic half-breed. But still, there were only three demons on the map and the rest read strictly as human.

That, in this dimension, wasn't a good thing.

She tried to give the receptor some story about finding the humans…

But he obviously didn't buy it.

Sirens wailed. Hope looked down at the scope to see three missiles heading towards the jet. Taking a firm grip on the joystick, Hope yanked it to one side and the jet spun completely around to the left, veering away from the missiles. She heard the surprised screams from over her shoulder, the others not expecting the sudden movement.

"Hope, they're still after us!" Michael yelled, Hope hearing his voice over the headset and in the regular air.

"Aware of that!" she shouted back, turning the jet another sharp turn and letting it dive down towards the landscape below, knowing the missiles might automatically back off if they were going to hit one of their own bases.

They didn't.

Hope saw the oncoming buildings and saw the ground begin to move faster as she neared it. She cursed under her breath, "Doesn't this thing have weapons!"

"Pull up!" Michael yelled.

Hope waited.

"Dammit, pull up!"

Hope pulled up, the nose of the jet just nicking the nearest fence and angling up fast enough to miss the building beyond that. The missiles were still on her tail and she knew the jet wasn't going to keep up with her if she kept turning and maneuvering it like this.

"Kill them, Michael!" she yelled.

He eyed her in shock, "I don't have enough power, Hope!" he yelled back.

"You wanna drive?" she asked, yanking the stick to one side and feeling gravity shift twice, three times as the jet barreled around.

"I can't take out the missiles!" he yelled, eyeing them as one pulled up right beside the jet.

Hope gave another quick tug—the jet dropped harshly, her and everyone else's stomach rising up into their throat—and the missile on the left collided with the with missile on the right, the jet no longer in between the two. Hope eyed the radar and saw another three missiles launched towards the jet. Four all together.

Hope eyed the joystick and smoothly took her hands off it, the jet still under her control.

"Hope…" Michael said slowly.

With hands outstretched and trying to aim at the missiles, Hope kept half her mind on controlling the jet and the other half on finding and destroying the missiles. Two of the missiles collided with one another under her influence and she continued to strain herself, trying to keep the jet relatively level.

"Anytime now, Hope" Michael said quietly, Hope barely able to hear him through the headset.

Every ounce of energy in her mind was focused on the two tasks at hand. She could feel her body start to shut down as her mind took everything in her. She could feel the tingle in her hands as blood stopped flowing to them.

The last two missiles exploded in flight, their pursuit cut off.

Hope passed out.

Michael grabbed the joystick and tried to level off the descending plane now that Hope's mind wasn't controlling it.

They continued away from the base and towards a dark patch of land where, hopefully, they could land and be safe from the demonic world that was trying to kill them.

* * *

Hope felt a jolt.

Her head hit something solid and it brought pain to her entire body.

She waited. Time passed. Time that was needed for Hope's mind to stop spinning and falling. After a time, it did so. She opened her eyes to see trees in front of her, the cockpit window spider-webbed but in one piece.

"Hope?" she heard Angel's voice in her ear.

She jumped, startled by the noise.

She eyed him, a small trail of blood seeping down his forehead. She then noticed that her own cheek was cut and she felt as if she'd been punched in the other cheek.

"I guess we landed."

"Yeah. Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, her pale hands trying to unfasten her restraints and pull off the headset that was now cockeyed. She shimmied out from the cockpit and nearly fell—Angel caught her to stop the accident. She let herself lean on him, still weak from the exertion of her mental control.

"Where is everyone?"

"They went to get water for you. We didn't have any on board," he explained, guiding her to a seat.

She held on to her throbbing head, "I feel like I got whacked with a baseball bat."

"It was hard coming down. Michael isn't as good as you are."

"Evidently," Hope straightened, touching the bloodied spot on her cheek and trying to heal it.

Angel took a hold of her hand and stopped her, "Don't waste the strength on something that small. The others'll be back in a few minutes"

He sat next to her and pressed a small bag of ice to her cut and bruised cheek. She winced, the pain unexpected and unwelcome. He took the ice away reflexively, grabbing a cloth napkin and putting that between her skin and the bagged ice. He gently placed it back on the cut, the napkin soaking up the blood.

She managed a half-smile, "Thanks."

"I do what I can."

The moment his cold flesh touched the warmth of hers, there was a shock. A spark of something. Angel pulled back his hand reflexively and eyed his palm, then Hope, unsure of what had happened.

Before he could make a comment, Michael and the others walked in, some canteens of water at the ready. Michael smiled upon seeing Hope up and about. Hope's intense eyes left Angel's and she smiled as Michael hugged her, congratulated her on stopping the missiles.

* * *

Hope cocked the gun she'd just picked up, "Ready?" she asked.

Michael and Angel nodded, each of them loaded with weapons. Angel looked at Gunn, "Close the hatch and don't open it unless you see me. Understood?" he asked.

Gunn nodded, "No knock, knock—got it," he allowed.

Michael, Angel and Hope walked out of the jet and Hope finally realized how hard they'd come down; the fuselage was banged up and scratched, black skid marks all over the main hull. She shook her head and continued walking, Angel on one side of her and Michael on the other. Hope looked ahead and saw the small amount of damage, realizing suddenly how talented Michael had to be to land the jet in so small a clearing. A small path of downed trees showed his final decent and Hope had to admit that she probably couldn't have done much better.

She looked to Michael, "Which way now?" she asked.

"We have to go west of here. We already passed the area that would've been Stonehenge; we have to head back that way," he said.

"We have to make it to Stonehenge before morning," Hope said simply, looking pointedly at Angel.

"Which is coming in less than two hours," Angel grumbled, looking at his watch that was still on the previously local time.

"Well, if my last check was right, we were almost fifty miles from Stonehenge. We'll never make it in two hours," Michael sighed.

Hope smiled, walking towards the rear of the modified cargo jet. She opened the back hatch and smiled when she saw two four by fours. "Oh, yes we will."

Pulling the land rovers out, she cranked them up and waited for a moment, savoring the engine noise. She climbed on one, pulled on the full-face helmet, and quickly put hers into gear.

Angel stood there, seeing Michael take off and leave them behind. He cocked an eyebrow. The low grumble of the engine came closer and Hope pulled up next to him, smiling beneath her fully covered helmet. She lifted the visor.

"Hey, handsome, going my way?" she asked slyly.

She handed him a black full-face helmet and he eyed her for a moment, "Very funny."

"I thought so," she slapped the visor back down and waited for him to get on, then gunned the four-wheeler and took off after Michael who was waiting for her and Angel.

* * *

Fred moved her queen forward one space and sighed, "Check mate," she said simply, tiredly.

Wesley sat there, agape. He looked at her unchallenged move from all possible angles and found that, much to his dismay, he really was in check mate. He eyed her, then looked back at the board, toppling his king to her victory.

"Play again?" Fred asked eagerly.

"You've beaten me twice. What more do you want?" Wes asked.

"Oh, come on. Just once more?" she begged.

Wesley sighed, "Fine, fine. But this is the last one."

Lorne took the blanket off from his head, "You two have been at it all night. Can we please give it a rest?" he begged.

"It's only six," Fred said, looking at the automatic digital clock.

"In the _morning_!" Lorne emphasized, then pulled the blanket pointedly over his head again.

Wes and Fred eyed one another, then took the chess pieces off the board. Fred smiled, taking out another bag, "Checkers?"

* * *

Hope pulled off her helmet. The first glimpse of the sun started to make its way over the foggy landscape as they neared Stonehenge. Even pushing the four-wheelers to their top speed, they'd just now made it. Feeling the cool breeze against her sweaty forehead but unable to savor it, she eyed the area that would have the stones' resting places.

Summoning all of her energy, she began to lose her material form and her shimmering essence filled the clearing, Angel fidgeting as the indirect light reached him. Hope knew there was little time to get him inside, under the cover of the caverns. The stairwell appeared and Hope coalesced and pulled Angel inside. Michael joined them at a calm pace, unaffected by the rays of the sun that had just now made it to where they were.

Angel, paler than usual from the too-close-for-comfort exposure to the sun, leaned against the cool, damp rack surface as Hope closed the gateway behind her. Torches lit up and Hope pulled Angel away from the wall, the torch near him combusting.

"Why is everything out to get me?" he asked no one in particular.

"Part of being popular," Hope said, grabbing the nearest torch and shifting the guns to her back, their straps starting to dig into her clothing and skin after the long ride.

The three of them started walking down a spiral, stone stairwell in to the cooler, then downright cold, depths where the Fedoins lay.

They continued to walk for what was, in reality, only two hours. But it felt like eons.

Hope fell.

Dropping the torch and making a grab at anything, she managed to grab onto something protruding from the wall.

"Hope!" Angel yelled, his voice echoing in the caverns.

"I'm fine," Hope said, looking down to see the torch continue to fall in complete blackness, the flames finally extinguished.

She looked up and, thankful for her demonic part, was able to see Angel lean over the ragged edge and offer his hand to her, his own demonic eyes well adapted for the pitch black that encompassed them .

She grabbed for his hand and he and Michael pulled her up, Hope out of breath from the experience.

She materialized another torch and held it down, looking at the floor—or complete lack thereof.

The stone ledge they'd been walking on had given away, the next segment almost twenty feet away. She knew that leaping the distance would be no problem, but she doubted the integrity of the walkway on the other side. She threw the torch over to the other side, it landing and the flames dimming, but not going out.

She looked to Angel, "I'll see you over there," she smiled.

Forcing all of her energy into her legs, she leaped forward, spanning the gap between the two segments. The stone held and she stepped forward to make room for Angel and Michael. Angel was next, his legs just as athletic as hers, the demonic part of them offering that much assistance.

Michael barely made the jump, no demon in him to grant that extra burst of agility and strength. Hope grabbed onto the collar of his shirt to keep him from falling into the abyss. The three of them continued on, Hope leading the way with her torch, hoping not to find any more surprises. More time passed that Hope let herself forget about.

But when she saw the large, illuminated cavern ahead, she shuddered.

"Hope?" Michael asked.

"This is what I saw in my vision," she said wearily.

In front of them were decomposing bodies, skeletons, other dead things that couldn't be described. But, strangely enough, there was no evidence as to how any of them died. Hope eyed the great hallway walls to see if anything could come from them. The hallway went on for miles. The underground caverns that mixed with the architecture blended in perfectly. Some were golden in color. Otherwise were mottled and gray.

Tentatively, she ventured forward, unsure as Michael and Angel what was going to happen. A small prick hit her in the leg. She froze, looking at her calf. Buried in her flesh was a small quill the size of a toothpick. Another one hit her in the upper arm. She pulled that one out and smelled the tip that had embedded itself in her flesh.

It had poison on it. Knowing she could handle it, she looked back to Michael and Angel. They walked slowly up to her. They, too, were assaulted by the tiny barbs. But the barbs never hit their targets.

Hope had blocked them, her mind creating a barrier between the three of them and the outside dangers.

"Stay right behind me," she instructed, continuing to walk.

More quills exploded from the walls and rebounded off the mental barrier. They walked through the impossibly long corridor, Hope's barrier protecting them from the miniature arrows. Then the barrage was over and Hope let her guard down, the two that had pricked her not fazing her at all. They continued to walk, the lighting better.

At the end of the corridor was a wall.

"Great, dead end," Michael sighed.

Hope walked up to the wall, "Not really," she smiled, her hand going through it.

They continued on, grateful that there wasn't a labyrinth of some sorts to make the going harder. A small shriek echoed through the corridor. Hope looked around for the source.

"See anything?" she asked the others.

They both answered no.

So, they continued.

Hope sighed heavily, _God, this is boring_.

* * *

"Oh, now you want to go to sleep!" Lorne exclaimed, eyeing Fred.

"I was just too nervous before," she excused, laying her head down on the pillow.

"I hope you had fun playing board games," Gunn said, walking out of the washroom in the back, still wiping off his damp face.

Fred nodded drearily, "Amusing."

Wesley scoffed, "She beat me every time," he complained, just as tired.

Gunn eyed her lovingly, "Yeah, she got the brains," he allowed.

He walked up towards the front of the jet and looked out the big cockpit window, grateful, in a way, that the sun had come up. It made the area seem more…humane. Easier to forget the fact that they weren't even in their own dimension.

* * *

"I spy, with my little eye, something that begins with—"

"Rock," Angel guessed.

"How'd you guess?"

"Not much else around, is there?" he asked back.

"Hey guys—I spy, with my little eye, something that is shiny, bright and can save our asses!" Michael waited for Angel and Hope, eyeing the area ahead.

Hope saw what he was looking at as she rounded the bend. A great, luminous palace was ahead of them, complete with guards and a moat and a rather nasty looking guard animal. The one she'd seen. It looked like a lumbering hound with horns and long canines.

Hope sighed, "Great, now we have to deal with people," she eyed the guards.

"I don't think they're human," Angel pointed out their horns.

"All the better," she said sarcastically.

They continued to walk, unsure of how exactly to approach the demons. Hope took the lead away from Michael and walked stealthily towards the palace. Taking some small semiautomatic guns out from their holsters, she readied them. Angel and Michael also armed themselves, Angel slipping a large shotgun from a sheath on Hope's back.

Hope stopped when they were within range and crouched behind a boulder with the guys. She looked to them.

"Ready?"

They both nodded.

Hope sprouted up, her muscular thighs throwing her weight and allowing her to run as she fired off rounds, the guards caught unawares. They shouldered demonic weapons and fired blindly, trying to aim for her. They turned as Angel and Michael spread out, firing and taking out what guards they could. After emptying her magazines, she threw the guns aside. She pulled a machine gun from her back and slid behind a rock as she checked the load. Sprinting from safety, she pulled the trigger and the gun cocked hard with each round, digging into her shoulder. The masonry behind the guards was shattered in a line as she went from one guard to the next. Across the mouth of the cavern, Angel had finished his last round and dodged a blast from the last guard.

Keeping the valuable weapon in hand, she left the cover of darkness and walked into the light. The demonic guard creature was growling, pacing at the other side of the moat. Hope fired off the last of her rounds from her gun, hitting the animal.

The creature wasn't bothered.

"So, how do we kill it?" Angel asked.

Hope reached into a back pocket on her cargo pants and pulled out an oval tin. Pulling the pin, she waited a full second before throwing it across the moat. The demonic creature sniffed at the canister. Then the grenade exploded. The creature's face was blown away. It writhed in agony as the body dealt with the loss. It fell to its side, blood pouring from it.

Hope sighed, "All clear."

Angel and Michael followed her across the waist high water. They all walked through the double doors that had opened for them, seeing ahead a bright corridor. Gems and other precious articles adorned the walls. But there was no sign of the Fedoins.

"Are they farther in?" Angel asked.

"Yeah," Michael allowed, somewhat familiar with the area even though he had never been this deep inside the Stonehenge circle.

They followed the winding corridor, waiting for any sign of trouble or success.

Hope stopped suddenly, looking down. Michael and Angel caught up. They followed her gaze to see a sheer drop of over twenty feet and spears ready to impale whoever fell that distance. The hallway had ended into a great pit with the deadly end of the spear pointing up.

"Great," Hope sighed, looking around.

"How do we get around?" Angel asked.

"We could try to climb the vines," she said, seeing them hanging from the ceiling.

"Will they hold?" Michael asked.

Hope shrugged, "Only one way to find out," she said, jumping forward and grabbing onto the nearest vine with both hands. It shifted slightly but did not snap.

She pulled herself up a ways before grabbing onto the next vine and wrapping her ankle around it several times. She looked back to Angel and Michael.

"Coming?"

Reluctantly, they followed her lead.

Hope made the first half steadily. She would secure herself to one vine and leave the previous one. She knew that if she fell it would be painful but she could heal herself as long as she wasn't knocked out. Michael wasn't in any real jeopardy, either. But Angel was. The shafts of the spears were wood and, if Angel fell, could destroy him.

She shifted her weight onto another vine and it pulled out of the ceiling. Hope managed to catch herself on the very end of the next vine, grateful that it was real.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked.

Hope nodded, shimmying back up the vine, "Fine. Just be careful," she looked at them, continuing on.

There was a rumble. Hope looked up towards the ceiling to see it shake, her vine swaying slightly. Small stones lodges in the ceiling came out and Hope shielded her eyes.

"Uh…Hope," Michael said slowly.

She followed his gaze and saw the exit being blocked off by a large stone slab. She harrumphed, so _not_ in the mood to deal with another obstacle. She used her vine like a swing and gained momentum, finally jumping the last twenty feet or so, landing messily on the ledge. She stood and propped herself between the lumbering stone slab and the doorway, slowing it slightly.

"Could we hurry this up?" she asked, straining.

In the hurry, no one noticed that the vines were falling from the ceiling.

Michael and Angel both fell at once, Hope's eyes wide as she saw them go. With one hand clasped against the stone and the other desperately outstretched, she mentally reached out for Angel, keeping him from falling the rest of the way. At her booted foot, a hand grabbed onto the side. Angel was able to pull himself up, still unnerved from almost falling.

"Michael!" Hope yelled, knowing he might not have had time to stall his own fall.

"I'm coming," he said, his voice sounded more annoyed than anything.

His own mind brought him towards the ledge and Hope propped the stone open further for him and Angel to slip through. She threw herself forward, the stone closing with pent-up force behind her, the corridor dark.

In the blackness, Hope could hear her own heavy breathing, Angel's lack thereof, and Michael's deep exhales—silent inhales. And she saw, strangely enough, Michael glaring at her. She chose to ignore his angry look, pushing herself up to her feet and, without much effort, she materialized another torch, the light painful for a moment.

The corridor was long and narrow.

"Well, what now?" she asked rhetorically, taking the first steps forward.

The blocks beneath her feet moved as soon as she put pressure on them. She took her light treaded foot off the first block and saw the mortar holding it had started to crack. She sighed, placing a bit more weight onto the stone block. It moved downwards again.

"Well, touch and go," she said, moving back to Angel and Michael.

"Huh?" Angel asked.

"The floor collapses under pressure," Michael explained, still glaring at Hope.

"It's too narrow for all of us to go at once," Hope added. She looked thoughtfully at Angel, "Can you pull a Spider-man?" she asked.

Angel just looked confused.

"She wants you to run along the walls. You're a vampire…shouldn't be too hard," Michael said quippishly, pushing his way past Hope and Angel.

Hope eyed him for a moment, looking back at Angel afterwards, "Can you?" she asked.

Angel nodded, "Yeah."

The three of them walked up to the edge of the dropping pathway, Hope moving to brace herself along the left wall while Angel was on the right one.

Without warning, Michael ran, the first block falling only seconds after he touched it. Hope and Angel ran along side of him, each of them forcing themselves to concentrate and not fall into whatever abyss lay beneath the falling stones.

* * *

Fred eyed the sunset from the cockpit, her mousy figure fitting into the front seat easily. It was a warm and golden one, warming her skin and sending golden flames across the trees, outlining them in the precious metal. It was all so calming and made her forget where they really where. A dimension away from home and stuck in a jet for safety.

Wesley came in next to her.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

Somewhat awkward, Fred smiled nervously, "Fine, I guess."

"You've been quiet ever since you woke up," Wes noticed, eyeing her and feeling that she was more beautiful than the sunset outside.

She smiled disarmingly, "I've just been thinking," she allowed.

"About…?" he prompted.

"About Hope…and about Angel. I mean, she has so much faith in all of us. She trusts us. I don't know what she sees in us."

"I know what she sees in you," Wesley smiled slightly, "A innocence most people don't have. It's not that hard to see," he complimented.

"But Angel…he cares about her just as much. Do you think that…in some way…he and Hope are perfect for each other?" she asked.

Knowing he'd inadvertently been ignored, Wesley sighed, "I suppose so. They work well together," he allowed.

* * *

"You think this is it?" Angel asked, walking next to Hope with Michael only a few steps behind, looking at the large atrium they'd walked into.

"It might be. Or, it could just be another trap," she said pessimistically, wiping mortar dust away from her eyes and off her brow, seeing that it had completely coated her and Angel.

He elbowed her, "Isn't it your job to see the brighter side of things?" he asked.

"I see the truth behind things," Hope corrected him.

The three of them walked forward and Hope tested the air, trying to discern what she could to see if there was any trap. She couldn't see any that were obvious enough to be seen, but she knew that walking into a grand atrium was always asking for trouble.

The golden light in the center stayed still as they approached it. Upon coming closer, Hope realized it was fire. A perfect sphere of fire suspended above the floor. It was large, easily the size of the jet they'd all arrived in, and seemed to be calling to her. She walked closer, feeling no heat from it. She looked up above the sphere, seeing a large hold in the ceiling that led up to reveal the dimming sunlight. She could see the North Star right there above the hole, just barely visible at the angle she was standing.

Tentatively, she reached her hand out and touched the fire. It didn't burn and actually felt colder than the air around it. When she pulled her hand back, her skin was gone and all that was left was the essence under her arm. A silvery mass of partially coalesced gas and energy particles in the shape of her arm and hand flexed itself, the pain of losing her flesh not there. Daringly, she walked up the small flight of stairs right next to the sphere, looking back over her shoulder.

"I'll be right back," she assured them.

"Hope, you don't know what's in there," Angel reminded her.

"I'll find out."

And with that, she stepped fully into the sphere.

* * *

A silvery mass of energy made her way towards the focal point of the radiance all around her. She felt revitalized and pure, clean and ready to face everything that would be coming her way. At the very core of the silvery mass was her soul, glowing bright sky blue and effortlessly contained within the mass that seemed to have no cohesion. Hope eyed her new self, not able to remember the last time she went fully immaterial; the last time she'd shed her flesh, bone and muscle to expose her true, vulnerable self.

She continued forward, looking around the seemingly endless space that held her. At its relative center, Hope saw the Fedoins. They were bright, fragile crystals. Each a different color. Blue, yellow, red, green and white…all were there in a pattern. The four colored ones were in a pentagram around the center one. Hope saw that each of them stood atop a stone pillar. Each pillar was blank save for a dot at its mid-point.

She walked up to the first one and pulled it gently from the rock, feeling her energy change as she did. The area around her became a royal, prestigious blue, casting its color onto her silvery essence.

The one after that brought the same affect, only in a coral red. One by one she gathered the delicate crystals, saving the clear one for last. As she touched it, she felt all of the energy it held flow into her, making the blood rush away from her head. She lost her sight for a moment, shaking her head gently to regain it. The other crystals were naught but containers…this one held the fuel for them all. She took it in her arms and moved back towards where she'd come in.

* * *

"Uh, guys, did Hope leave us any weapons?" Gunn asked, looking out the window.

"No, why?" Wesley asked.

" 'Cause we've got company."

Wesley and the others looked out the windows to see a small arsenal of demons walking towards the landed jet.

Wesley looked to the controls, his first instinct to get them all off the ground.

* * *

Hope walked back into the atrium and saw before her Angel and Michael. They were surrounded by guards.

Still immaterial and coated with the energy the crystals exuded, she just eyed the group.

"What is this about?" she asked, her voice echoing through the atrium, her power magnified by the contents in her hands.

The guards, seeing her for the first time, backed away, taking their weapons away from Angel and Michael.

"I asked a question!" she spoke again, the cavern vibrating with the strength of her voice.

"No one takes the sacred stones!" one of them answered.

Hope let her essence brighten, feeling the need to show these guards who was who, "I dare to take them. They are needed. Now, release my companions!" she demanded.

"We cannot," the guard answered back.

"Fine, then," Hope shifted the crystals to one arm and hand, holding out the other arm. The guards screamed as they seemed to melt away, their bones and muscle dripping to the floor. Hope watched apathetically.

As they died, Hope moved towards Angel and Michael, knowing they were both unsure of what had overcome her. She took Angel's hand with a smile he couldn't see; her facial features were gone along with her skin. But Angel visibly relaxed.

With contact, Hope began to regrow the skin that had been painlessly seared away from her essence. But the silver sheen still shone through, giving her the appearance of being transparent. Now that they could see her soft smile, they smiled back.

"I like the look," Angel complimented.

Hope inhaled deeply as her lungs were developed, "I feel strong," she allowed.

"Think you can get us back to the jet?" Michael asked, inwardly impressed by her power but not allowing himself to show it.

Hope nodded once, "Of course."

* * *

"No! We can't leave—Hope won't know where we've gone," Fred stated, placing her hand on Wesley's arm.

Wesley looked at her and sighed, knowing the predicament.

"Then what do we fight with—the jet itself?" Lorne joked, taking another sip of his sea breeze.

Wesley got an idea and ran to the storage compartment in the back of the cabin. He opened it and dug through the mess to find a flare gun and a box full of flares. Also, he found a dozen small jars of oil for the generator. He handed half to Gunn.

"Throw these at them," he instructed.

Gunn smiled, "Light my fire," he understood, then opened the hatch and started to chuck the small bottles at the advancing demons.

Being as stupid as they were, they were fearless after Gunn had finished chucking the bottles and Wesley took his place, aiming the flare gun at them.

One by one they incinerated from the flares, screaming in agony as they were burnt alive.

Wesley smiled, "Eight down…"

"A few hundred more to go," Lorne interjected.

They all followed his gaze to see more soldiers coming into view, the darkness making them all the more imposing. Then a light filled the forest and blinded them all. Once the light had receded, Fred was the first to see Hope walking towards the jet, her hands holding precious cargo and her body filled with silver light. Next to her were Angel and Michael. The demons were gone and Hope, calm and stately, walked up the stairs and towards the back of the jet, taking out towels to wrap the crystals in until they arrived back home.

She walked back towards the others and mentally closed the hatch after Michael and Angel had gotten in.

"Hope?" Fred asked.

Hope looked at her and smiled warmly, "I think we can go home now."

* * *

Michael sat in the back of the jet, his anger threatening to implode in on itself. He had always known Hope would do whatever was necessary to protect the ones she had to…

But she had chosen Angel over him.

They'd both fallen and she'd opted to save Angel instead of him. It stung. The idea that she would choose a vampire instead of him—the man and demigod she'd known all her existence. The one who had protected her and taken care of her more than once. But none of that apparently mattered. Hope had made her decision. But it still angered him.

The goddess was steering the jet, Angel up in the cockpit with her. The window up there had been repaired easily now that her powers were increased. The fuselage was perfect once more and they were gliding far above the real world towards Los Angeles. The entire trip, Michael had opted to stay away from Hope, knowing he'd yell at her for her decision. And, as much as he blamed her, he blamed Angel twice as much. The vampire wasn't anything great, and, to Michael, was expendable. He had no powers, he had little resistance to evil…what possible help could he offer Hope in the fight that was coming?

He watched angrily—and with a twinge of jealousy—as Hope smiled warmly at Angel, her translucent form beginning to assume a more human appearance, no longer filling the cabin with the heavenly power she was given.

* * *

"Really, it's not that hard," Hope smiled warmly at her copilot, "Try it."

Angel shook his head, "No, I think I'll keep everyone safe."

Hope scoffed, "Nonsense, try," she urged.

Angel reluctantly took the joystick in his hands, feeling the weight of it surprise him. He was flying and he saw Hope take her hands off her console, giving him full reign. The jet floated effortlessly and he actually smiled, feeling the accomplishment she wanted him to feel.

"See? Easy," she smiled, taking control back from him and starting their descent. She turned on the 'fasten seat belt' sign and pulled on her headset, adjusting the mouthpiece. She looked to him with a smile.

"Better send Michael up here."

Angel nodded. As he shimmied out of the cockpit, Michael was already walking towards them. He brushed past Angel and closed the cockpit door behind him.

* * *

Hope was packing away the few clothes she'd brought for the trip. The ride home had been uneventful. She would charge the Fedoins soon and give one to those she was protecting. Michael slammed the door and eyed her; her back was turned to him and she jumped slightly at the disturbance.

She turned to face him, "Excuse you."

"I knew you cared about him. I never knew you cared that much," Michael started, his voice harsh.

Hope, slightly taken aback, eyed him, "I beg your pardon…how dare you—"

"Do you love him?"

"Who?"

"Angel!"

"What?" Hope asked incredulously.

"Do you love Angel? Because you sure convinced me!"

"Why are you saying this?"

"You saved him instead of me."

Hope scoffed, "Is that what this is about? You're upset because I saved his ass and not yours? You are pathetic!"

"I'm not the one in love with a vampire!"

Hope eyed him again, "I _do not_ love Angel. I care about him, yes. But I would hardly call it love."

"He is nothing. Why would you save him?"

"Because he matters!" Hope stated forcefully. At Michael's wounded look, she smiled sardonically, "What? Did I offend you? Well, it's the truth. You and I don't matter half as much as he does. _He _is the one facing the First. _He_ can do what he has to. He is more important in this battle than you are…so yes, I saved him first. And given the chance, I'd do it again!" she assured him.

"You disgust me. How can you care about a creature so vile and degrading?"

"He has a soul!"

"He's a vampire!"

Hope's face turned, her fangs glistening in the lamplight of her room, "_So am I_," she said choppily, strongly, "Who I care about is none of your or anyone else's business. Get over it!" she quieted her voice down, the intensity of it still as strong.

Michael stormed out of her room, the door slamming behind him.

Hope sighed, knowing this wouldn't get better any time soon. The fact that she doubted her true emotions for Angel was strange in and of itself. She had always been so sure…about everything. But with Angel…

* * *

Angel sat on the fountain, watching the stars blink in and out of Los Angeles smog. His mind was still trying to sort out what Hope had tried to show him. What had she hoped to accomplish when she'd taken his wrist? And her display of raw power under Stonehenge was impressive, to say the least. She'd become something more than just a girl he'd found in the alley. She'd become a god.

But what had she tried to show him? The doors opened behind him and he turned to see Michael. The demigod ignored him and started for the double cast iron gates. Angel stood.

"How's Hop—"

Michael brushed past him.

"Hey!"

He stopped and turned, his eyes dangerous. Angel stared at him, "I asked you a question."

"I don't answer to vampires."

"You have a problem?"

"A big one. You are a vampire...a vampire with a soul...a vampire who thinks he's good enough to pursue an omniscient and omnipotent goddess," Michael's voice became cold and harsh.

Angel eyed him, "Excuse me?"

"I know what you're doing."

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, "Enlighten me."

Michael smiled vindictively. He forced Angel to be thrown back against the gates, "What makes you think you can give her love, vampire?"

Angel stood shakily, "We are talking about Hope here, right?"

"She doesn't love you and you don't love her!" Michael accused, "She has you because you can give her a sense of danger. And you're her call boy because you're addicted to her power. That's all it is."

"You've got it wrong. I don't think of Hope that way."

Michael tossed him aside easily, "Don't you? Don't you think of what she looks like at night?"

Angel stood shakily, not used to being tossed around, "You loved her once...and you can't bear to see her fine without you...that's all this is."

Michael tossed him aside again, forcing him to hit—head first—a column. Angel coughed out blood.

"What do you think you can accomplish by tormenting her? She's above you! You are meant to die with the rest of your pathetic kind in the apocalypse. No connection you have with her will change that."

Angel looked up at Michael, hovering over him, and tried to come back with something, unsure of what exactly Michael thought was going on.

"That's not what Hope says."

"There's no reason for you to fight, Angel. You, no matter what you do, will never be considered an advocate of good."

Michael was thrown backwards against the other courtyard wall.

"He _is_ and _always will be_ an advocate of good," Hope said strongly, her face and posture threatening.

She moved to Angel's side and helped him up, her eyes still trained on Michael. Michael stood furiously.

"You would defend that vampire!"

"I will defend my champion!"

Angel felt the right side of his face swelling and he spit out the accumulating blood in his mouth. He looked between Hope and Michael.

"You have been among mortals too long. You forget your purpose!"

"I do not. I defend the innocent and smite those who are otherwise. No oath or law have I broken by allying myself with Angel. It is you who are out of line. You allow mortal emotions to cloud your judgment. It is you who must be reborn!" she pointed her finger at him and sent a quick blast of energy to knock him backwards.

Michael recovered and sighed heavily, "You disappoint me, Young One. Do not expect help from me any time soon. Allow your rag-tag band of mortals and demons to help you—if they don't turn on you first," he sneered, exiting in a cloud of blue haze.

Hope helped Angel steady himself, bracing his weight on her.

Hope sighed, "I'm sorry."

"I'll be okay," Angel said in machismo.

"No. I mean I'm sorry I wasn't out here sooner. I should've seen it coming."

"It's okay. He's gone and I'm still in one piece," Angel shrugged, then swished something around in his mouth and spit out a molar, "More or less," he added.

* * *

Hope dabbed at Angel's bleeding forehead, "There. How's that?" she asked.

He smiled and winced, "Better."

Hope remained quiet, cleaning the wounds Angel had sustained while Michael had gone kamikaze. Hope had never guessed the demigod would take his anger and jealousy out on Angel. She hadn't thought it possible for him to be that low. Hope dipped the rag into the sink full of warm water, rinsing it out and squeezing it once. She continued to wipe at his wounds, trying to be gentle.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think he would get that carried away," she apologized again.

"You've been apologizing for the last half hour. It's not your fault."

"I should've known something was wrong when we were under Stonehenge. The way he looked at me…"

"What got his temper going?"

Hope sighed, "He was upset that I saved you from the fall instead of him. He was…insulted."

"Seems he was jealous."

Hope met Angel's eyes for a moment, "Perhaps," she eyed his next chest wound.

Angel waited a moment, "Do you love me, Hope?"

Hope looked at him in mild surprise, "I hope you feel better. I'll see you in the morning," she said quickly, changing the subject and walking out of his room, closing the door gently behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Angel didn't know exactly what woke him up. But when his eyes opened, his fist recoiled, prepared for the worst. As his eyes focused, he saw Hope. She was standing at his desk. Her fist, too, was recoiled. Only he saw the beginning of a glow in hers. She lowered her hand and doused whatever power she'd been startled to summon. He lowered his fist. She smiled and pulled a curl behind her ear before he self-consciously made sure the sheets were covering all of him.

"Hope…what's up?"

She pointed to the crystal sitting on his desk, "Just wanted to give you yours. Didn't want you to have an unpleasant morning guest. Didn't mean to wake you up."

"No, that's fine. What time is it?"

"Six-thirty. Sun's just up."

"You were able to charge them?"

"Got up early and got 'em all done. Couldn't sleep."

"Because of Michael?"

She tried to smile, "You're definitely a vampire. Human male never would've figured that one out."

"I'm sorry I caused problems."

She shrugged, "We've fought before. He's just never gone ballistic. Speaking of: how are you feeling?"

"You've got the healing touch."

"I really am sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me."

She shifted, "Well, I'll let you get ready. I'll see you downstairs."

He watched her walk out. Her movement made the heat in his gut glow. Whenever she was around, he could feel it. Whatever leftovers he'd gotten, they weren't gone. He tried to push it away, knowing it wasn't right to feel that lust. She was beyond him. Knowing Gunn and Wesley might've been feeling the same thing didn't make it any easier. Whatever her power was, it affected them. It was more than just a feeling in his gut. It was a desire.

* * *

Wesley looked up from his cup of tea and his morning paper to see Hope walking down the stairs. Aside from her downtrodden face, she didn't have that bounce in her step. She wasn't radiant. He tried to smile when she came closer.

"Morning."

She barely smiled back, "Hey."

"Care for some tea?"

"I'm okay, thanks."

"Is everything all right?"

She sat on the barstool, "Yeah. Little tired. Couldn't sleep."

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

She eyed the newspaper, "Is there a crossword in there?"

He searched through, "Yes."

"I'll take that."

He handed it over and she materialized a pencil. As she sank into the literary task, he sipped at his tea, reading the rest of the paper. There was nothing of note; some sports headings with the latest political writings mixed in.

Looking over to Hope, he watched her for a moment. She wasn't really doing the crossword. She was staring beyond the boxes on the paper. The pencil was just a dead weight in her hand. Her face was propped up on her open hand. She just stared at nothing.

He looked up to see Angel walking down the stairs. Angel watched Hope for a minute before coming any closer. He nodded to Wesley.

"Morning."

"Morning."

He stopped next to Hope even though she remained oblivious, still staring into the page and beyond, "Lee."

She finally looked up and over her shoulder, "Huh?"

"Seven down. Southern general. Lee."

Her gaze reverted to the page, "Oh. Thanks," she didn't bother to fill it in, just let her gaze fall back into where it'd been before.

Angel and Wesley shared a look. Wesley gave a subtle nod and Angel led the way to his office. Closing the door, Angel sighed.

"She's out of it."

"I had noticed. She didn't even eat when she came down."

"She's upset about Michael."

"What exactly happened last night after I left?"

Angel shrugged, "He went off."

"He decided to throw you around the courtyard?"

"That was his solution, yeah."

"And Hope?"

"She defended me. He left."

"What was he so upset about?"

"She saved me."

Wesley gave a blank look. Angel shrugged, "We fell. She caught me with her mind and stopped me from hitting the spears at the bottom of the pit. He landed. He didn't get hurt, but she didn't catch him. She saved me instead of him."

"If he has been in her life for so substantial a time, that would cause problems."

"He thought she loved me. That that was why she saved me."

Wesley's eyebrow's rose, "Do you think that's the case?"

Angel chewed on the inside of his cheek, "I don't know. I asked her afterwards and she didn't answer me."

"Do you love her?"

Angel paused, "I'm not sure. I mean, I feel something when she's close."

"Well, she is a very attractive woman. The benefits of being a god, I suppose."

"But why would she save me instead of him?"

"You're her champion, Angel. That must mean something."

"I'm also the vampire that killed her."

"What?"

"Angelus…I…I killed her. That's why she was sent back. She didn't just lose. I killed her. And Michael had to watch."

"Hope knows the difference. We know it, too."

"I know. I just can't help but feeling that she's alone because of me."

Wesley smiled, "She's not alone."

Angel started to open the sliding door to the backside of the counter. He smiled when he peered out. Hope's arms were crossed under her head as a pillow. She was asleep, her face peaceful.

"At least she'll get some sleep."

Wesley smiled at that. Slowly opening the door so it wouldn't creak, he and Wes walked out. Angel pulled his jacket from the computer chair and walked around the counter. He laid it on top of her. She barely shifted. He walked back around next to Wesley.

"Did you get that crystal?" he whispered.

"No. You?"

"Yeah. She gave me mine this morning. When she wakes up I'll ask where they are."

He turned to face her when he heard her whimper. Watching her, he saw her brow furrow. He walked closer, staying on the other side of the counter.

She awoke violently, throwing herself from the barstool and landing on her feet. The jacket fell to the floor. The barstool did, too. Angel searched for her wandering eyes. With heavy breathing, she started for the door.

Angel went after her, "Hey. Hope. Hold on."

She ignored him. He grabbed her elbow. She spun faster than his reflexes could catch. Her open hand landed in his chest. She knocked him down; he skidded across the atrium floor before coming to a stop at the other staircase. She stood there, unsure of what had just happened. Angel got to his feet hastily.

"Hope?"

Her face was lucid again, "I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" Wesley asked.

She paused, "Yeah. Just startled," she ran her hands over the top of her head before swallowing hard, "I'll be in my room."

Before Angel could start the next question, she was up the stairs and halfway out of sight. He ignored the throb in his chest. He started after her. Wesley took his shoulder.

"Perhaps it's best to let her be."

"Something set her off."

"And she threw you across the room."

Angel nodded, "Yeah. I noticed."

"Just give her time to cool down."

* * *

As the small clock on his desk struck one, Angel realized he hadn't eaten yet. Hope's outburst had made him forget about breakfast and he'd been digging through what Michael had said for the rest of the morning. Fred had brought in doughnuts and had almost gotten a response from Hope's room. There'd been a shuffling. But no one came to the door. Wesley had gone to search the new supply of books at his favorite store. Fred and Gunn were lounging about. Nothing had happened since that outburst.

But he was still hungry.

He walked out to the minifridge and took out the quart container of blood stored there. He walked back into his office and nearly dropped his lunch.

Hope was standing behind his desk, eyeing the world map, a Sharpie marking out specific areas. But he was more concerned with the fact that she hadn't been there a moment ago.

"I thought you were in your room."

"I needed the map."

"I didn't see you come in."

"I teleported."

"Oh. What're you doing?" he asked.

Hope kept her eyes on the map, "I'm marking out the Hellmouths of the world. Trying to see where the First might strike next," she allowed.

Angel's brow furrowed, "I thought there was just one."

Hope shook her head, "Six all together. Five now that Buffy took out the one in Sunnydale."

"Where are the others?" Angel asked, moving closer to her.

Hope remained unflustered, "There's one in Cleveland. One in Central America…a small little town called La Paz. One in the Congo, one in Jerusalem, and, oddly enough, one in Papua New Guinea. That's the least active of them all. Obviously Jerusalem's the most active right now. Second to the dead one in Sunnydale."

"Ironic."

"Very ironic," she put the Sharpie down and turned to walk out of the office. Angel purposefully didn't move.

She looked at him, "Something else?" she asked.

"Do you want to talk about what happened this morning?"

She looked down, "Not really."

"You threw me across the room."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm more worried about why you did it. What were you dreaming about?"

She sighed, "I saw you dead. And not a pile of dust dead. Your eyes were open."

"Oh."

"And when you grabbed me…it hadn't sunk in that I was dreaming."

"Me dead got you that upset?"

She didn't look at him, "You're my champion."

"Not what I meant. You never did answer my question last night."

She finally made eye contact, "Does it matter? The First wants to get your soul. I'm the only one that can fight It. Michael's gone. He knows more about It than anyone. So besides fighting uphill, I'm fighting with an arm tied behind my back."

Angel put the blood down, "I think you're selling yourself short."

"You don't know me."

"I know you've survived this long. I trust you."

"That makes one of us. I'll be in my room."

She stepped around him and walked out of the office. He didn't watch her go. The back double doors opened and Lorne walked in. He took off his bowler hat that hid his horns. Putting it on the counter, had tried to greet Hope. She didn't say anything, just kept walking.

Angel turned as he heard Lorne walk closer.

"Not so much a cheerful Hope, I see."

"Yeah. She accidentally threw me across the room today."

"Ouch. What happened?"

"She had a dream. Said she saw me dead in it."

"Not cheerful at all. Add that on top of her sidekick leaving…"

"She thinks she can't do this without him."

"Maybe you should prove her wrong."

Angel eyed him, "How?"

"Give her a cheerful night on the town."

"You want me to take her out?"

"Just something to make her feel better. Maybe if she isn't cooped up here, she'll find her cheerful self again."

"And where should I take her?"

Lorne shrugged, "I'm anagogic. Not psychic."

Angel smiled at that and walked out of his office, taking out the yellow pages. Fred stepped up next to him with a doughnut in hand.

"What're you looking for?"

"I don't know. Something that'll cheer Hope up."

"Oh? Like what?"

He shrugged, "Not a clue. Any ideas?"

"You could take her for ice cream. It could be a date."

Angel closed the book and stared at her, "We are not saying the d-word. This is not a date."

Fred smiled, "If you say so."

"Someone say date?" Gunn looked up from his comic book.

"No. No date."

"He's trying to cheer Hope up."

Gunn shrugged, "Take her to the boardwalk. Plenty of stuff to do there."

Angel nodded, "Thank you."

Fred almost smiled, "It is a good first date."

"Not a date."

* * *

Angel pulled on his long coat and walked out of the office, the sun already set and the sky a deep purple. Wesley was sitting at the reception counter, his head deep in a book.

"Wes, can I borrow some money?" he asked quickly.

At that, Wesley looked up, "What for?"

"I was going to take Hope to the boardwalk. Try to cheer her up," he added.

Wesley smiled faintly, "Of course," he reached into his pocket and dug out some bills, then handed them over to Angel, "Have a good time."

Angel nodded, "Thanks."

He walked up the stairs to Hope's room. Knocking, he waited patiently. Hope came to the door; her face was tired and worn. But there was still that radiance beyond those eyes. His gut heated up and he tried to smile.

"Hey."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just thought you'd like to get out of this room."

She restrained her smile, "What did you have in mind?"

"I'll surprise you."

"I don't like surprises."

"Then trust me."

She smiled. It was warm. She nodded, "Okay."

* * *

Fred and Gunn walked into the Hyperion with a large cardboard box full of Chinese food containers. Fred laid the box down on the counter and Wesley smiled at the scent of the food.

"Ready for some dinner?" she asked.

"It'll just be the three of us," Wesley said simply.

"Where'd everyone go?" Gunn asked.

Wesley sighed, "Lorne went out to a bar. Angel took Hope to the boardwalk," he said suggestively.

Fred smiled, "On a date?"

"One suspects."

Fred smiled in that way she did when she was excited; her eyes squinted slightly and her cheeks touched the bottom of her eyes, "Oh, that is so sweet. I hope they have fun," she smiled, opening a box of rice.

"Just don't call it that in front of 'em," Gunn added, digging into a tofu dish.

"Why?"

"He said not to use the d-word," Fred smiled.

* * *

Angel found himself smiling at Hope…more with her than at her. Her face reminded him of a little child that had just discovered a candy shop. Her eyes were full of wonder and her smile was thin and wide. Her soft wavy hair blew in the breeze and the back of her cami would buck up every once in a while and show her muscular back.

When the carousel stopped, he waited for her to disembark and meet him on the other side of the gate. He'd opted to stay off. He'd never gotten used to circular motion and had no desire to embarrass himself, "Again?" he asked.

She smiled, "No. I think three times was enough," she admitted.

Angel was silently grateful she didn't want to ride again, but he would've waited for her had she wanted to. Just to see her happy after the fiasco with Michael…it was worth it.

They walked away from the circular set of horses, ducks and cats towards the games. Hope eyed the entire place with wonder.

"It's so peaceful here," she sighed.

"Really?" Angel asked.

"I can feel all of them, Angel. All the little children just being happy. Old and young enjoying themselves. It's relaxing. Just to be surrounded by the innocence of it all."

"Have you been here before?"

"Never. Never been on a carosel before, either."

"Never?"

"Didn't have the time."

"Anything else you want to do?" Angel asked.

Hope froze in her spot, "Not die," she murmured.

Angel followed her gaze to see Bringers, "I second that," he sighed breathlessly.

The terrified pedestrians screamed and ran once they caught a glimpse of the tribal scars over the eyelids. The dozen or so Bringers ran at Hope and Angel with their curved and stylized daggers ready for any blood they could draw.

Angel readied himself to fight and noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Hope was still and relaxed, calmly alert. As the Bringers came closer, she started to lose her flesh, the essence inside her taking control. Angel diverted his full attention to her, not caring that the Bringers were advancing quickly.

"Hope?" he asked.

Her features were gone and left behind only the glowing orb of silver that was her being, "I can take care of them," she assured him, her voice deathly calm.

Hope slowly walked towards the Bringers. They paused momentarily upon feeling her essence, but continued on anyways. Angel watched in awe and wonder as Hope landed a single blow to each Bringer quickly; that blow seemed to envelop the enemy and dissolve them from the inside out. Her purity killed them and Angel found himself enthralled by her, more so than he'd been in the caverns below Stonehenge.

When the first onslaught of Bringers was taken care of, Hope coalesced back into her human form. Her skin and hair reappeared, her clothes coming on a second after that. But her skin still had that silver sheen to it. She turned to look at Angel. He walked up to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked calmly.

She nodded, "I am."

She suddenly looked up and pushed Angel down, landing next to him. Where they'd been was struck by a large fist. They both turned to see a demon standing there, the embers at the bottom of its feet telling Hope how it had arrived.

The First had sent it.

Hope materialized a sword and handed it to Angel. She made another one for herself and quickly lunged at the slow moving demon. Her sword went in up to its hilt and Hope twisted it before pulling it out.

In agony, the demon swiped at Angel, nailing him on the left side and sending him into the base of the dunking pool. Water leaked out from the cracked Plexiglas and Angel cursed under his breath as it soaked him. He stood angrily and blocked the next blow, taking a swipe as he did so. One of the demon's clawed fingers landed on the wooden planks. Hope came from the other side and tried to land another solid blow. But the demon nailed her, instead.

It forced her down, pinned her against the wooden planks. Her sword skittered across the wood. Hope pulled out a dagger from her pants and struck it into the demon's hand trying to loosen its pressure on her. It didn't work. The blade went right through the clawed hand and, as the demon pushed her down harder, Hope could feel the blade begin to pierce her own abdomen. With grunt of pain, she pulled the dagger out and lodged it into a thicker part of the demon's hand, hoping still that it would release her.

The demon continued to press down on her, the wood splintering beneath her. She could feel her ribcage crack, her lungs slowly being compressed. She tried again with the dagger but had no more luck than the first two times.

Angel growled and charged, watching her lose her strength by the moment. He brought his sword down quickly and it carved halfway through the demon's wrist. At that, the demon wailed and released Hope, its arm flailing about wildly. Angel dodged the arm and tried to get closer to Hope. She had rolled onto her side, coughing out blood from her lungs. He felt a brush from the demon's bleeding arm as it flew by him, the breeze from it almost deafening.

Angel tried to throw another blow with his sword. But the demon had another plan. It kicked Hope at him. She hadn't had the chance to get to her feet; she fell on top of him. He could hear bones crack and knew suddenly they weren't his. He stayed down until the demon's flailing arm had passed, then laid Hope on the wooden planks. She coughed out blood. She looked around, finding her dropped sword.

Angel let the demon take another swing and he held his sword up. The blade cut through the tough skin and muscle.

Hope waited until the arm had past, then got onto her hands and knees and crawled away from the demon, grabbing at her sword. Standing shakily, she jumped at the demon again and landed her sword deep into its neck; she could hear the whine of metal slicing through bone. Angel dislodged his sword from the demon's wrist and threw it. It landed in the demon's throat. The demon gagged, Hope twisting her blade. It fell. Hope fell with it. She was coughing violently and a bloody puddle was forming around her head. Angel rushed over to her. He passed the demon's face; it lunged. Angel avoided the blow and jumped back.

The wooden planks gave out.

Hope, Angel and the demon fell to the water below. Angel hated the water. Even though he had never touched it, being under it was still disconcerting. Without the need for air, there was no need to surface. But those months under the ocean in a steel box took control. But he had to get Hope. She was wounded and in no condition to swim. And she did need the air.

He saw her. She was sinking above the demon. It had gasped in water and was below her. Blood drained from a cut in her waist. Angel's hand wrapped around hers and he pulled her up to the surface. Even when the air hit her face, she didn't gasp for it. He cursed, yanking himself and her towards the shore.

"Hope! Wake up," Angel yelled at her.

Her head just swung limply. He dragged her onto the sand and hit her ribcage once. She coughed. Spitting out seawater and blood, she rolled onto her side. Angel sank to his haunches next to her, taking her hand in his.

Hope's eyes found him and she smiled. Moving her hand to her ribs, he watched her heal herself. She looked to him once the task was done, "Are you okay?"

He nodded, "Fine."

She saw a small trail of blood coming from his left ear. She took his face in her hands and looked to the other one. It, too, was bleeding. She sighed.

"I think you have a concussion," she admitted.

Angel shrugged it off, "I'll be fine."

With her fingers on his temples, she let her energy flow into him, healing whatever damage had been inflicted. Once she took her fingers off his skin, he smiled wanly.

"That feels better," he admitted.

Hope raised an eyebrow at him, sitting up straight, "See? The goddess knows what's best," she winced, "At least we got the carousel in before the Bringers showed up. But we should get back"

Angel sat in the seat next to her, "The night's still young. I'm sure we can find something else to do," he suggested.

Hope shook her head, "I don't want to take the chance. If It attacked us here…"

He nodded and offered his hand to her as he stood, "Good idea."

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," she said, standing shakily.

"Part of the job description."

Her eyes went wide and she started to run. He managed to keep up, "Hope?"

"They're in trouble."

* * *

Fred swallowed her bite of noodles, thinking as she did so, "Do you think Hope and Angel are having fun?" she asked.

Gunn nodded, "Sure of it."

Wesley nodded.

"I can see her walking in those doors with a big, stuffed dog. Maybe some cotton candy…" he trailed off, suppressing a chuckle.

"I'm sure they're having a great time," Wesley confirmed.

"Do you think…you know…that they make a good couple?" Fred asked, looking more so at Gunn.

Gunn smiled at that, "Strangely enough, I do."

Glass shattered all around them. Fred screamed and covered her head, ducking down behind the counter in response. Gunn and Wesley, startled but apt, ran for the weapons in the cabinet, ready for whatever was coming at them.

* * *

Hope's foot was on the accelerator, the SUV was traveling faster than it should have, somehow her mind steering it perfectly enough to avoid any collision or attention from local law enforcement. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the Hyperion ahead. She stopped the Element, the tires screeching on the asphalt.

"Ready to kick some ass?" she asked Angel, still staring ahead.

She heard the familiar crunch of bones morphing, "I'm ready," Angel said, his vampiric face threatening in the moonlight.

Hope gunned the SUV and it shot towards the Hyperion, cutting across the road and meriting horns and fingers from those she cut off.

* * *

Gunn felt a sharp pain down his leg, seeing blood drip on the floor. He raised his axe in self-defense, the massive creature bearing down on him. But the creature stopped in mid-blow, facing towards the other set of doors that led to the street.

What was left of the wooden doors was smashed in as Hope's Honda Element came crashing through them, skidding and bouncing once as it nailed the stairs. She pulled the steering wheel to the right, hard, and the SUV spun, nailing the demon that was hovering over Gunn. The rear bumper stopped only inches from Gunn's face and Hope was out of the vehicle, a broadsword at the ready. She helped Gunn up then ran to aid Fred—the young woman was having trouble of her own. Angel leaped over the SUV to land on another demon, knocking it to the ground before it could swipe at Wesley.

Fred fell backwards, unable to defend herself against the multiple enemies coming at her. She crouched, a broom handle up in a last resort. The demons hovering above her never touched her, however. Hope slid onto the ground through their legs and nailed the one closest to Fred with her sword, taking out one of its legs. She stood as the creature howled in pain, the one behind it still advancing. With Fred cowering behind her, the demon tried to push Hope out of the way; Hope would have none of it. She took a blow but returned one, knocking the demon back into the weapons' cabinet, the glass panels cracking and imbedding themselves into the demon's flesh. She turned to help Fred up and was swept off her feet by the demon who had lost one of his own.

Gunn stood painfully, his leg weak and losing blood. He leaned against the Element, trying to keep his back secure. Suddenly, the support was gone and he fell onto his back, looking up to see the undercarriage of the car and a demon hoisting the vehicle over its head.

It was aiming at Wesley and Angel.

"Angel!" he managed to yell out a warning before the demon threw the SUV, it spinning in the air.

Angel only managed to push Wesley up onto the stairs before the SUV was on him, nailing him down and cracking bones as its full weight settled. Angel screamed, pinned and broken. He tried to push the SUV off himself before the demon he'd been fighting took advantage of the situation, but it was just too heavy.

Wesley knelt next to his friend and picked up the sword he'd dropped, hoping to provide Angel some protection until the vehicle could be lifted off him. He blocked the first blow from the demon; the impact forcing Wesley down onto his back, he held the sword up in defense, blocking the blow aimed at Angel's exposed neck. Wesley got back up to his knees and stabbed at the creature, trying to force it away. It stumbled slightly, the pain startling it.

Gunn rolled to one side. He avoided the massive arm that came down where he'd been. The tiles cracked and shattered under the impact. He rolled again, the jagged edges of the tiles cutting into him. The arm came down again, narrowly missing him. He forced himself to roll over one shoulder, the pain in his abs and leg killing him. He got to his feet and pulled himself backwards to avoid a blow by the demon again.

Hope grabbed at her sword and lodged it solidly into the demon's skull, the death throes deafening. She stood shakily and looked around, seeing the destruction at hand. She felt her powers rise.

"No!" she screamed.

Her body was engulfed in flames, her eyes molten red. A sphere of red energy, violent and deadly, appeared over her open palm. It flew forward and nailed one of the demons. The demon fell backwards, the fire engulfing it and charring it, destroying it cell by cell. Her attention was diverted to the demons attacking Wesley and Angel, seeing Angel pinned by her SUV. Both of her hands lashed out and she allowed two more spheres of death to hurtle towards their targets. Those demons met the same end as the other one had, howling and convulsing in pain.

Still breathing heavily, Hope tried to calm herself down, the four demons disposed of. The one at her feet had died, the blade piercing its brain. Her skin was still glowing a bright red, her eyes matching it. Fred stood timidly behind her and eyed her for a moment.

"Hope?" she asked quietly.

She didn't respond, only walked over towards where Angel was pinned, her strength and energy still crackling the air around her. Wesley backed away as Hope came closer. She placed one hand on the SUV and it shimmered out of existence, no longer able to cause more damage.

Starting to calm, she moved to Angel's side. He was straining to remain conscious. She kneeled next to him and placed her hand on his forehead. He seemed to drift off, no longer in pain.

She then turned to Wesley, her face and demeanor more calm and peaceful. Unsure but unwilling to pull away from her, Wesley allowed her to take his hand. He felt energy course through him, healing anything that was in pain. It felt oddly pleasant—like the feeling one would get after the circulation in a limb was restored. That sense of painful, almost tickling, awakening.

"Better?" she asked.

He just nodded.

She walked over to Gunn and did the same, Gunn's wounds taking a moment longer to heal. Fred was last, the one with the least injuries. Only a cut on her forehead and a fractured wrist for Hope to heal. Hope, finished with the mortals, walked back over to Angel and picked up his limp form, knowing he would be in so much pain if he was awake. She carried him like a child, his head falling backwards as she did.

Silently, the others followed.

They all walked up to his room, leaving the demolished atrium behind.

Lorne walked in, saw the chaos, and his mouth dropped, "My timing is impeccable."

* * *

Hope laid Angel down in the bathtub, his blood draining from him slowly and making its way down the drain. Hope unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off and throwing it aside to be washed. Leaving his bloodied pants where they were, she took out a pair of scissors from his cabinet and gently cut away the material where his wounds were. She turned on the water and took the extending shower head to rinse off his wounds, letting the blood wash away.

"Will he be okay?" Fred asked timidly.

Hope nodded solemnly, "He will be."

Turning the water back off, she positioned herself oddly to place her palms over his chest. Her body began to shine. She looked at Fred and the others.

"Go into the other room and wait," she asked of them.

They walked away, Fred closing the bathroom door behind them. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I hope she's okay," she said in afterthought.

Gunn shook his head, "Was it me, or did she seem a bit…dangerous—with the fireballs an' all?" he asked, his voice low.

Wesley shrugged, "I suppose, between losing Michael and this fight, the burden has been heavy. That may have been her way of taking her anger out."

"Remind me never to get her angry," Gunn said, looking at the closed door as if he could actually see the goddess on the other side.

* * *

Hope felt her energy collide with Angel's, her body turning into nothing more than a glowing mass of essence and purity. She let herself dig into Angel's body, finding the broken bones and ruptured organs and slowly healing them, her eyes closed to do so, seeing her work as she completed it. Bit by bit she healed him.

It drained her. To heal such a shattered husk of a body was difficult, especially when that husk was lifeless to begin with. She had to be sure she stopped at just the right point or Angel would need to breathe, his heart would beat…and he would be alive. Much as she knew he deserved to be, she wasn't entitled to give him that gift yet. Tastes of it here and there, to keep him fighting for what was right and true, that was fine. But to give him that gift fully…there was no way she could get away with that.

Dead or not, Angel's eyes shot open, his body healed enough for him to be awake. On him he saw Hope's form; his human reflexes made him gasp for air out of habit. He tensed up more out of confusion than anything. Hope took one of her silvery palms and gently placed a finger on his lips to calm him.

_Relax. It'll be over soon_, she assured him. Her voice was inside his head, omnipresent and gently soothing. Angel couldn't find the strength or way to talk back telepathically, but he just nodded.

_Your friends are fine. They're healed_, she addressed his next concern. He took comfort in that; he let himself be mended with her heavenly power, the strength of it filling his cold body with a warmth.

Then it was over and Hope's human form was still leaning over him. She offered her hand and helped him out of the tub, the blood on his pants no longer there. He stood fully, shakily, still cautious.

"You should rest," she said calmly, her voice still delicate and airy.

He shook his head, tried to straighten, "I'll be fine."

She eyed him, "I am fine. You are not. Rest," they both walked out to his room where his friends were grateful to see him about; she eyed each of them, "We should all rest."

Angel watched Hope as she escorted his friends out of his room; there was a stately dignity about her, as if she was an elderly lady trying to hide her weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He sat on his inviting bed, taking off his sneakers.

Hope walked back to him, "I'm going to get changed. I'll check on you in the morning," she promised him, her smile motherly.

He hadn't expected that, "Hope…" he trailed off.

She stopped moving towards the door and faced him, waiting.

He didn't know what he wanted to say. It had all seemed so clear only a second ago, but now, there was a blank. Nothing to work with, "Good night," he said sincerely.

Hope somehow knew there was more to the goodnight, but said nothing about it. She only smiled, "Sweet dreams."

With that, she walked out of his room elegantly, closing the door behind her. Angel stared at that door for a long moment, feeling she was still there; her smile, her face staring back at him. Then, feeling content with that image in his mind, he committed himself to sleep. As he laid down, he could feel Hope's mind come into focus. That sharp sense of self and purpose that he knew he could never have.

He had to talk with her. Tell her thank you, tell her how he felt…but he had to talk to her. He couldn't wait until morning—that would be too long. He stood slowly and pulled on a fresh undershirt, sure he would be up for a while. Pulling on a pair of undamaged black pants, he wanted desperately to see himself in the mirror…practice, even…before going to face her. What could he say? What could he possibly tell her that she didn't already know?

With a final resolve, he walked down the stairs towards Hope's room. As he neared, his sensitive ears picked up her voice, talking to someone.

* * *

"Young One," He sighed, eyeing her, "You cannot continue like this."

Hope sighed, unwilling to go through another lecture, "I am tired, Old One. Please…not now."

"You are weak. You use your powers too much. It makes you vulnerable. Between the two fights tonight and healing Liam…you are drained. It will realize this and take advantage of you," He admonished her.

Hope rubbed her sore shoulder, "I'll be fine, Old One. I just need some sleep."

The Old One seemed to consider Hope for a moment, weighing some internal decision, "Perhaps…it would be best if you resumed your place," He said slowly.

Hope looked at Him in horror, "I can't do that!" she declared, her voice quiet but intense.

"You can keep an eye on him from the heavens. You needn't be here to save his soul."

Hope shook her head, "Angel needs me. His friends need me. They need to know I'm here…to help; that I'm here to save them all."

"Are you sure? Could it be that you feel you need Angel?" He asked wisely.

Hope looked down at the floor, abashed. The Old One sighed.

"Young One, you _are_ part human. But, you have a devotion to the balance. You must remain powerful enough to stop Its advances. Healing the vampire and his friends has made you weak. It will be days, perhaps longer, before you are complete again!" He said, His tone being that of a father upset with His eldest daughter.

"I may not be complete, but I am in no way weak," Hope said huffily.

He smiled wanly at that comment, "No, you are not weak. But you cannot allow yourself to give in to mortal emotions. You see where they lead you; you must refrain from healing those you protect so fully. Save them, yes. But they will heal on their own. There is time for that for now; use that time," He instructed.

Hope nodded, resigned, "I'll try. I can't promise anything," she added.

He took her cheek in his palm, "I know, Young One. I know."

Hope watched Him leave in a burst of energy and light, knowing He was right. She was worn thin, her powers used to their extremes. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was still energized from the contact with the Fedoins. What little energy they'd given her had shone through in the caverns and in the fight at the boardwalk.

Was that enough to keep her going? She didn't know. She couldn't know. So much was happening that, in all her years, was new to her. Angel, the Fedoin contact…all of it. It was all new. As much as that scared her, it excited her as well; it gave her a rush that she wanted to feel forever. But she knew it wouldn't last forever.

There was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she allowed.

Angel walked in, his eyes sincere, "Hey," he said awkwardly.

She smiled tiredly, "Hey. Shouldn't you be resting?" she admonished him.

Angel eyed her, "I should ask you that."

"You eavesdropped."

"Kinda hard not to do. I hear a lot," he added.

Hope shook off his concern, "I'll be fine. I'm just tired."

Angel stepped closer to her, "That's not what I heard," he paused, trying to sum up what he was feeling, "Why would you push yourself?"

Hope sighed, "Because I have to, Angel. That's what I do. I don't have a lot of free will in the matter."

"You could've let me heal on my own. I would've been fine."

Hope looked down, "I couldn't bear to see you in pain that long. You don't deserve that."

"There are some who would disagree, I'm sure."

"And then there are those who would love to see you in pain," a gentle, suave voice came from behind them both.

Hope and Angel turned to see a replica of Buffy. Hope moved in front of Angel.

"You think you can fight this? It will happen," It taunted.

Hope smiled, "Not if I can help it."

"But you can't fight it, Hope," the faux Buffy sneered, her arms crossed over her chest. With a sudden fury, It lashed out and grabbed Hope by the throat and lifted her off the ground.

Angel, startled that It could actually touch her, recovered quickly and threw a solid punch—it went right through the image. The duplicate smiled.

"You can't save her, Angel. No one can. This…this is her fight," she diverted her attention back to Hope; she was gagging for air, her hands desperately grabbing at the wrist holding her.

Angel bent down and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her to get the pressure off her windpipe. The First backed away, waiting and knowing. It smiled devilishly.

"So weak. So devoid. Your human body will be your greatest fault."

Hope coughed violently, air trying to rush back into her lungs. Angel offered her support, bracing her, keeping her steady. Angry with her own weakness and the human limitations imposed on her, Hope threw her elbow up and nailed her tormentor in the nose. It reeled backwards, unprepared for the blow.

Buffy smiled, "You got me there, Hope. It won't happen again. Next time, no one will be able to save you. You will fail. I will win."

Hope couldn't find a comeback; she just glared at the image before her, knowing all It wanted was to demoralize her and create more of the doubt she was already feeling. It vanished, no trace of It ever being there. Hope rubbed her sore elbow, the contact with the First painful.

"Are you all right?" Angel asked, unsure of what to say.

Hope nodded, "Fine."

"How can you fight it?"

She stood straight, "The way I always have. I'll just keep the ones I care about from falling into Its trap. It can't win if there are still warriors on my side."

"Is there anything I can do?" Angel asked quietly.

Hope nodded tiredly, "Rest. I'll be fine in the morning."

"I can't leave you alone—"

"Yes you can!" Hope said strongly, her voice eerily quiet. She sighed heavily, "I'm sorry…please, rest. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'd feel better if I was here with you," he pushed.

Hope sighed, exhausted, "Of course. I'll get changed," she walked away towards the bathroom after picking up some night clothes.

Angel watched the bathroom door close, feeling so helpless. He couldn't touch the First. He couldn't fight Hope's battle. All he could do was be there for her.

She came out a moment later, her hair disheveled and a loose tank top and a long pair of lounge pants on. Angel smiled wanly, still thinking how attractive she was. He moved across the room and sat in a small, plush recliner. Hope slipped under the covers, smiling tiredly at Angel.

"I'll see you in the morning," she allowed.

"Sweet dreams," he answered.

* * *

_ "But I don't love him. I suppose I never did. It was just...a phase."_

_ Angel eyed her, "Is that what I am? Just a phase?" he asked. _

_ She smiled, leaning closer to him and whispering in his ear, "No, you're just a snack."_

_Angel recoiled but felt her hand on his throat, gripping him and forcing him down onto the bed. He caught sight of her face and gasped when he realized she was wearing the demonic face, the face she'd worn before. _

_ With her fangs revealed and her lips curled into a smile, she held him down on the bed, sitting on top of him and rubbing her free hand against his lower abdomen. _

_ "Hope, don't!" he rasped. _

_ "Why? I'm having fun and God knows this is what you dreamed about a million times over. Having me...being with me and seeing what no one else sees," she snickered. _

_ Her mind holding him down and rendering him powerless, she opened his shirt and kissed a trail down his chest, right to his pants. As pleasing as her touch and lips were, he feared for his life—she was mentally far gone and could be considered deadly if she got the notion in her mind. _

_ She nibbled at his ear, "This is the part where you scream," he caught her smile out of the corner of his eye._

_ She sank her fangs into his neck, piercing the jugular and letting the blood flow into her mouth, enjoying every single drop that came. _

_ Angel stifled a scream as he felt her fangs sink lower purposefully, piercing muscle and tendons and digging to cause him pain. Completely paralyzed by her mind, he could just lay there while she sucked on his neck, taking away his blood. He winced as he felt rivulets of blood sink down his neck, the ones she missed._ Angel caught sight of Hope squirming beneath her covers; her ragged breathing awakened him. He stood and walked over to her, taking her by the shoulders. He tried to call her to consciousness. But she was still trapped in whatever nightmare that had overcome her.

* * *

He shook her once gently. She shot up and the sweat on her brow drained towards her mouth, "Angel?" she asked, her voice rasp.

He nodded, "I'm here."

Without much thought, Hope leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He could feel tears flow from her eyes, "I thought you were gone," she mumbled, her eyes seeing the images she'd seen in the nightmare.

"I'm right here, Hope," he assured her, rubbing her quivering back, "What did you see?"

She licked her lips, "I was drinking from you."

"It was just a nightmare."

She moved back, letting him see her worried face, "I don't know that. It was too real. It was me, but it wasn't. Something that looked like me…you thought it was me," she started to ramble, looking directly into Angel's eyes.

Angel took her by the shoulders, "You think it was a vision?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. I don't know," she repeated, looking downwards.

Angel sighed, "You said it wasn't you, right? Then there's no need to worry about it."

"But it looked just like me, Angel. You thought it _was_ me."

Angel took her face in his hands, "Whatever it was, nightmare or vision, we'll fight it, Hope. Just like we always do. Okay? There's nothing to worry about right now," he smiled gently, "Just try to get some sleep."

Hope nodded, somewhat at ease from his gentle voice, knowing he was right there. She rubbed her tears away from her eyes, sniffling once to clear her nose. She looked at Angel.

"Thank you."

He shifted his weight and put his arms around her, leaning back into the comforting bed. With her back to his chest, they lay there, his right arm over her shoulder and subtly telling her he was right there. Her hand reached up and held his.

Angel pulled the covers up and watched her as she drifted off to sleep. Her side rose and fell as she breathed, the warmth of her skin warming him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Wesley knocked gently on his friend's door. There was no answer. He walked in and saw no Angel. The shower wasn't on and the bathroom door was opened, so he wasn't in there. Wesley eyed the suite and then walked back out, hoping to find Angel somewhere else in the hotel.

He walked into the lobby to see Fred and Lorne already up, "Have either of you seen Angel?" he asked.

Fred shook her head, "He's probably still sleeping."

Wesley walked towards the reception counter, "I checked his room. He's not there."

At that, Fred straightened, "Maybe Hope's seen him."

"I don't want to wake her up. After last night…," he trailed off.

"But if something happened to Angel, she would know, right?" Fred asked.

"I think she'd know—wouldn't that wake her up?" Lorne suggested.

Wesley shrugged, "Perhaps. I'll check on her."

* * *

Angel was at an angle, running his fingers through Hope's hair. She was peacefully asleep, her face so radiant and calm. In a way, he envied her. In more ways he didn't. He knew what she had to face. He knew that she would have to fight alone. He'd just held her during the night, being there whenever she stirred to reassure her.

Hope's door opened gently. Wesley poked his head in and seemed somewhat shocked to see Angel lying beside Hope.

"Angel," he started.

Angel hushed Wesley with an open hand and scooted away from the bed, moving towards him.

"We didn't know where you were," Wesley continued after they'd stepped onto the scaffolding outside Hope's room.

"She had a hard night," Angel said calmly.

"Glad to see you're all right. Care for some breakfast?" he offered.

Hope screamed.

Angel nearly ran through the door and made it to the bed before Hope had time to stop. She was frantic, her eyes still closed and her arms thrashing wildly. Angel grabbed her, tried to steady her.

"Hope!" he yelled.

Wesley was right next to him, trying to hold her down and keep her arms from flailing, "What's wrong with her?" he asked.

Angel shook his head, "I don't know."

As soon as the terror had come upon her, it was gone. Hope sat up and saw Angel and Wesley. Her breath short, she eyed Angel, "I have to go."

Angel shook his head, still holding onto her, "I don't think so."

She gently released herself from his grip and walked towards the bathroom. A second after the door had closed, it opened and Hope was dressed, ready for action, "You stay here."

"I said you're not going."

"Are you planning to stop me?"

"You're in no shape to go out on your own, Hope."

"I have to take care of something!"

"Then _I'll _take care of it. You don't have to."

"You can't help, Angel. It's daylight."

"I'll take the sewers. You're not going alone," he said strongly, taking a hold of her shoulders.

Hope sighed, "Sometimes we champions have to face things alone, Angel. You know that."

"That's why we have each other."

"I can't let you come with me."

"Then you're not going," Angel straightened.

Hope punched him. Wesley backed up as Angel fell, unconscious, to the carpeted floor. Hope sighed and eyed Wesley, "I'll be back in a few hours."

"What should I tell him?"

"Not to come after me," Hope said simply, walking out of her room.

She walked past Fred, Gunn and Lorne—they'd all heard the commotion and came running in time to see Hope land a punch on Angel's face. They eyed Wesley and he just shrugged.

* * *

Hope eyed the large subway tunnel, knowing it was long out of commission. She followed the un-electrified rails, not afraid to touch them from time to time with her metal-heeled boots. She knew Angel would be furious with her, but she had no intention of involving him in what she knew was too dangerous for him. So, she was alone, in the dark, and cold. Amazingly cold considering it was summer outside. But, she was below the surface and she was in the Record Keeper's territory.

This was the quickest way to get to the little creature, she knew, but the least pleasant. Thinking back, she wished she'd taken a sewer route. Longer, yes, but more pleasant than this dark and damp tunnel.

The tunnel ended abruptly from a rockslide. There was a guardian demon in front of it, invisible to humans. The last earthquake in the area had rendered the tunnel a lost cause. But, she knew some things the surveyors didn't. For one, she had planned the rockslide. And, she thought with a smile, the rockslide had long been cleared and this visual enigma left behind to ward off any who might try to clear the path.

As such, she walked right through the rocks and found herself in the misty white realm of the Record Keeper.

The ground was covered in a fine mist and the air was thick with sweetness and clung to her skin comfortably. Minus the scenery, she was reminded of a rainforest whenever she came here. She heard the small shuffling of clawed feet. She looked down and farther away to see the Record Keeper. He was small, responsible for the stereotypical alien outline. With large eyes accustomed to dark, green skin that glowed after exposure to light, Hope had to wonder just what he was from time to time. But, it wasn't her place to ask. He was there to help her and would do so.

He scrambled up to her holding a cup filled with nectar.

"I knew you had comes. I expects it, I do."

Hope smiled at his unique dialogue, "Thank you," she sat on the misty ground and sipped at the refreshing drink.. She didn't indulge herself often, but once in a while gave her the reminder of what and who she was.

"You see what had He showed you?"

Hope nodded, "I need to know if it was a vision."

The creature shook his head slightly, "No, no. You comes to saw if it happenings."

Hope cocked an eyebrow, "Don't get technical with me. You know what I want."

He smiled, "I knew. Fine, fine. I goes to showing you. One minutes."

Hope waited while he retrieved a small drop of mystical water. The single drop was pulled from a puddle not ten feet away. He carried it to a stone that lay in front of Hope and dropped it there where it hovered.

In it was a small view hole. Hope eyed the scene intently. She saw things she didn't want to know. But at least she knew.

* * *

Angel opened his eyes to see Wesley standing over him. He knew what had happened, but he just sighed.

"She left," he assumed.

"Yes."

"When will she back?"

"She just said later."

"And she said not to follow her, right?"

"Basically," Wesley allowed.

Angel stood, his head still throbbing, "Well, I guess we'll just have to go get her. I'll take the sewers. The rest of you drive around, see if you can find her," he instructed.

* * *

Hope hung her head, "What takes my shape?" she asked.

The Record Keeper shrugged, "I doesn't knowing."

Hope eyed him, "You mean you won't tell me."

"This can been truthful. It wasn't my place to telling you."

Hope finished off the nectar given to her, then stood, "At least I know. Thank you."

"I wished I can be of more helping."

Hope sighed, "You've done all you can."

She walked away and tried to face the facts; in time, something would assume her shape and nearly kill Angel…or one of her friends.

But, the feeling she'd had during the vision wasn't one of absolute destiny. It could be avoided. And she would do her best to make sure it never came to pass.

* * *

Angel looked around the dark tunnel, feeling Hope's distinct affect on him. He was sure that, if she hadn't healed him those times, he'd be unable to track her. The tunnel ended ahead; his eyes saw the rockslide. He thought it odd that Hope would come down here to fight or do whatever it was she had to do.

And, even odder was the fact that a young man was guarding the rockslide. He approached it slowly.

"Excuse me, have you seen a young woman pass by here?" he asked, his voice echoing in the tunnel.

The man remained stoic and mute. Angel walked closer, "Hello?" he repeated.

When the man didn't answer him, he sighed. Outstretching his hand, he touched the rocks…or the air that looked like rocks.

Morphing quickly from man to beast, the demon pushed him back and away from the false wall.

Angel brushed himself off and eyed the demon, "I'm trying to find Hope."

The demon said nothing.

"I know she's behind that wall. I'm going to get to her even if you—" by the time he walked back to the fake wall, the demon swiped at him again, sending him flying. He landed hard, rolling several times. He winced as he stood.

"All right, big guy…you wanna fight?" he asked, taking a sword out from under his long coat. He advanced on the demon again and ducked as it tried to knock him away again. He sliced but hit only air. The demon nailed him again, one of its claws slicing from his left to his right, blood spilling from his chest. Angel cursed below his lack of breath and blocked a blow from the demon, tired of being attacked by things that were three times bigger than him.

"Stop it!" Hope yelled just as Angel felt another hard blow from the demon.

Hope ran to his side, looking over her shoulder at the demon, "_Gurttre jurth likju vuuen!_" she said harshly.

The demon backed away, obviously subservient to Hope.

"Hey," Angel smiled, looking up at Hope.

Her face was one of disappointment, "I said not to follow me."

He groaned, "Like I'd listen?"

"You should've. Jaxk can kill vampires in one shot. You're lucky I came along."

"I don't know," Angel said as Hope helped him to his feet, "I think I did pretty good," he winced once he realized a rib was broken, "Or maybe not."

Hope let him lean some of his weight on her, frustrated but caring, knowing Angel had only come after her because he was concerned.

* * *

Hope sighed in exasperation, "You really don't know when to quit, do you?" she asked.

Angel winced and she wiped blood from his forehead, "Not in my nature."

"Where are the others?"

"They're driving around, looking for you."

"And you came after me alone. Brilliant. It got you in this pain, you know."

"I don't know—being injured has its advantages," he gently ran his fingers up her arm to her elbow. He watched her give in. Without looking at him, her eyes closed slightly and she inhaled through her mouth. He could feel tantalizing power beneath her skin. No matter how devoid her Old One thought she was, he could feel it. His sensitive fingers felt her pulse race and her skin warm.

She turned to look at him, "You shouldn't…"

He took her hand in his, his mind not in control of what he wanted to do, of the impulses he was denying, "Why?"

"We don't…this isn't…"

He pulled on her hand gently and she sat on his lap, "This isn't what?"

"We have responsibilities. To others…to the…the…wor…"

She never finished her sentence. Angel felt her lips against his. He could feel sparks of her on his tongue and against his lips. He could feel his gut heat up unbearably, the pain too captivating and pleasurable to stop him.

But she stopped. She pulled back and stood from his lap. As her skin left his, he sobered. He sat up straighter, ignoring his own arousal. He swallowed. She didn't say anything, didn't make eye contact, only started to tend to his wound again. She quickly cleaned the washcloth and started to clean the wound again—her breath still rapid and shallow, but quiet even to Angel's ears.

She placed a large gauze pad on his wound and taped it in place, busying herself with putting away the first aid kit.

Angel stood and pulled on his shirt, buttoning it, knowing how close they'd come and that it was becoming hard for him to control himself. Her every touch reminded him of the immense power running beneath her skin; the power she'd used to heal him was now a tempting aphrodisiac. It was for him not to get carried away despite what his logical brain told him.

"I should call the others, let them know I'm back," she said absentmindedly.

Angel nodded, "Yeah. I don't want them to stay out longer than they have to."

* * *

"She's avoiding me," Angel said tiredly, looking at Hope through his office window. The last few hours had been slow and, during that time, she hadn't looked at or spoken to him once.

Lorne smiled, "Now what makes you say that? Why would she avoid you, Angel Cakes?" he asked, sipping on a sea breeze.

Angel was glad the door was closed, "We…we kissed. And I think it was the wrong thing to do," he admitted.

Lorne, calmly surprised, shrugged, "Maybe you just knocked her socks off."

"There's something wrong with her…I can feel it."

Lorne put down his sea breeze and sighed, "Yeah, I can feel it, too. But I very much doubt it was the rendezvous."

"What do you think it is?"

"Can't tell. She's too focused on nothing to send out waves. But I'm guessing it has to do with the nightmare she had…the little trip she made. Something's got our little goddess down," he concluded.

Angel eyed her, knowing the conversation she'd had with the Old One had more or less stayed with her—her own vulnerability could be the main cause of everything…or it could be just the cherry on the sundae. All Angel knew for sure was that Hope was hurting. She tried to hide it from his friends; she succeeded with them. But, with Angel and Lorne, she couldn't escape what they had on her. Angel's bond and Lorne's connection with the Powers that Be gave them that small insight. The peek into the real her.

The part of her that was hurting and afraid.

"Why don't you take her out again…try to cheer her up?"

Angel shook his head, "She's weak Lorne. I don't want her to have to fight again," he blurted out.

Lorne eyed him questioningly.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest, "I overheard a conversation she had last night with the Old One. She's been using her powers too much. It's drained her. If we go out again, the First might send out more mercenaries to finish her off. I can't let that happen."

"Take her out to a no-demon-violence bar. That should ward off some potential threats," he suggested.

"I don't know if she would go out with me after what happened."

Lorne smiled, picking up his sea breeze again, "Give it a try.

Angel watched Lorne walk out of his office, still trying to understand what had made him grab at Hope that way. If that was love, he'd never felt it before as Angel. As Angelus, maybe, with Darla…but that was a need, a lust. Not love. How could he face the facts that he had grabbed at her in a way reminiscent of his time with Darla? That he was suddenly lusting after the one woman in all the world who was the most pure?

The thought of what Michael had said made him shudder; Hope was goddess. He was a vampire. He had no right to eye her the way he did. He had no right to do what he'd done.

But it still felt so right.

He found himself standing next to Hope, reading an article over her shoulder.

She turned her head to look at him, "Interested in quantum theories of biomechanical evolution now?" she asked, a cocked smile on her face.

Angel realized that the article he'd been glancing at was, in fact, something he didn't understand at all.

"Not really, no," he answered.

Fred walked over, all cheery and her glasses on her cute face, "It is so great to have someone to talk to about physics. I usually talk to myself…not out loud, of course," she added at the few stray glances from Gunn, Wesley and Angel.

"Fred and I have been going over this article. We're pointing out theoretic flaws," Hope explained, her voice calm.

She turned to look back at the article and Angel felt the urge to give in to his vampiric self; her neck was exposed towards him, succulent and pulsating with rich, fine blood. He backed away in fear of his own urge and couldn't help but remember the dream he'd had.

Hope turned to face him, "Angel? What's wrong?" she asked seriously, picking up on his inner turmoil.

His eyes found her neck again, her tank-top doing nothing to pacify his thirst. Wesley approached him as well, concern and fear in his eyes. Hope tried to lay a hand on his shoulder. He thrust it away, her skin contact only causing more of a craving.

With that, his face gave way; fangs caught the refracted light off the chandeliers and his skin crunched up to give his brow an even more defined shadow.

Hope backed away, her hands out and keeping his friends behind her, "Angel! Fight it!" she said strongly, her voice barely audible through the irate haze that had covered his brain.

"What's happening to him?" Fred asked.

Hope shook her head, unsure, "It must be the First."

She took a step or two closer to him, her hands out in front of her.

"Angel, can you hear me?"

Angel just snarled at her, unable to restrain the reaction.

"You have to fight whatever has you, Angel. I need you to fight it," she said slowly, calmly.

"Maybe we should just leave him alone," Fred suggested.

Hope shook her head, "Wesley, get me a tranquilizer gun," she asked, reaching her hand out to her side.

At the mere mention of a threat, Angel lunged at Hope, pinning her to the ground. Shocked and unprepared for the attack, Hope could barely keep his fangs away from her neck.

With a sudden thrust of energy she rolled and ended up on top of Angel, her hands tight at his wrist. She sat on him, keeping him pinned and immobile. He tried to thrash free, his yellow eyes piercing into hers.

"Angel! Come back!" she demanded.

His countenance flinched slightly, but he was still viciously trying to attack her.

Wesley readied the tranquilizer gun, ready to take a shot if Hope was thrown off Angel, unable to restrain him.

"Whatever you're feeling, it isn't you!" her voice deepened and took a wraithlike quality yet booming like thunder, "Fight this, Angel. I can't fight for you!" she stated.

His struggle subsided and Hope's normal pacifist voice came back.

"That's it," she said soothingly, "Keep coming to my voice. I'm right here, Angel."

Angel's face changed back, his normal, human one etched with fear and embarrassment, "Hope," he rasped.

"You won," she smiled in response.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sitting up as she let his wrists go.

She nodded, "I'm fine. You didn't hurt me…or the others," she reassured him.

At the mention of his friends, he looked away, "What happened?" he asked.

Hope took his face into her hands, "Whatever it was, it's gone now. You fought it back."

She slid off him, sitting next to him on the patch of undamaged tile from the night before. He held his face in his hands, partly from the pain of whatever had consumed him, mostly from embarrassment.

Hope placed a hand on his shoulder, "Come on, let's get you upstairs."

Angel stood shakily and allowed Hope to lead him, unable and unwilling to meet the gazes he knew were on him.

Hoping Angel was out of earshot, Gunn turned to Wesley, Lorne and Fred, "Talk about freakin' out. You think we should let Hope deal with him alone?"

"She was the one to bring him back from whatever it was that took him," Wesley said in her defense.

"And I'm sure she can handle him if anything else happens," Fred said, trying to be optimistic.

Lorne sighed, "Don't count on that, Freddicans," at confused looks, he added, "Hope's not running on a full tank. That's probably why she hasn't taken the time to fix the lobby yet. Fighting off whatever attacked you last night, healing all of you _plus_ Angel…it took a toll on her. A big one," he said sadly.

"She'll be all right, won't she?" Fred asked.

Lorne shrugged, "Let's hope. Let's hope," he said, eyeing the way Hope had left.

* * *

Hope laid Angel down on his plush bed, patting the pillows to fluff them a bit. She sat at his side, rubbing his sweating forehead, knowing he was still battling whatever the First had obviously put into his system.

"Want something to drink?" she asked.

Angel nodded, unwilling to articulate.

Hope left his side and walked to his kitchenette, taking out a pint of blood she knew he had stored there. Bringing it back to him, she opened it and held it to his lips for him to drink from. He took a few sips and rested his head again.

"I'm proud of you," Hope said softly.

Angel scoffed, "For attacking you?"

Hope shook her head, "No. For fighting. For coming back. That takes a lot; not many can do what you did."

"I had help," he took her hand gently.

"I didn't do anything, Angel."

"You called me. Made me want to see the face that went with the voice," he admitted, running his fingers across her cheek.

Hope pulled away from his touch gently, "Angel…what we're feeling…this isn't the time," she scolded him gently.

"Maybe it's the best. With all the Hell coming in around us, shouldn't we at least have some peace?" he asked knowingly.

Hope smiled, "You do have a way with words, don't you?"

"I've had some time to practice."

Hope leaned over and kissed him gently, his hand still at her cheek. Her hand found its way to his chest, his cool skin almost refreshing. They kissed a moment more, then were done. Hope sat straight and eyed him, a smile on her face.

"I should tell the others what happened," she said softly.

"What did happen?" he asked.

"The First must've tried to control you. That's all I can think of," she sighed.

"It must be desperate."

She nodded, "Or impatient."

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean for that to happen."

Hope leaned over and kissed him again; when she pulled away, there was a smile on her face, "I'm telling you not to worry about it. You fought back. Be proud of yourself."

He accepted that, feeling the weakness that fighting back had forced him to succumb to. He let his full weight rest on the pillow, grateful for the fact that he hadn't hurt any of his friends. That, above all else, he couldn't bear.

"I'll check on you in a while," Hope promised, slipping off the bed and walking from the room.

Angel watched her go, so wishing she had stayed. But there were things she had to do. She had to keep those in the atrium calm and confident. They needed that right now. They needed her.

* * *

Hope walked down the hallway and towards the staircase. As she rounded the last corner, she came face to face with her mother. She gasped and stood stock still. Her mother smiled at her. Hope's own mind forced her to put up her defenses, knowing the First could hit her at any moment. She swallowed hard, her mother's visage none too comforting.

"Why, Karina?"

"You're not..."

"Why are you protecting the creature that killed me?"

Hope found her heart pounding. It had her mother's deep brown eyes and black curly hair. She was shorter than her, but still her mother. Using her old name. Giving her that disappointed look. Making her feel so small.

"You're not Jo Carlton. You're not my mother."

"He tortured me for hours. How could you dishonor my memory by helping him?"

"That was Angelus. Not Angel."

"How could you love something so vile?"

"You're not her."

Jo smiled warmly, "But no matter what you do, I will always love you."

Hope reached out and gently cupped her mother's cheek in her hand. Jo wrapped her own hand over her daughter's.

"When he tortured you…"

"I forgive you."

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there to finish you off."

Jo's face twisted into disgust and she threw Hope's hand out of hers. Hope watched the visage waver and dissipate into nothing. Taking in the air that was her only savior at the moment, Hope tried not to cry. Things were too complicated as they were. And the man she cared for wasn't the man who'd killed her mother. That was a monster. The monster she was still defeating. Angel was the one who mattered. Angelus was gone but never defeated and that was the best Hope could do. She knew it. She knew her mother never blamed her. She knew there was nothing she could've done all those years ago.

But she didn't believe it.

* * *

Wesley was the first to notice Hope walking down the stairs. He eyed her for a moment, telling quickly from her tired face that Angel was indeed fine, but she was worried about him. He straightened and waited to bring her attention to him.

"Is everything all right?" he asked gently.

Hope nodded. The others looked up to meet her tired face, "Yeah. He's fine. No danger for now."

"What exactly happened?" Gunn asked.

Hope sighed, "As far as I can tell, the First tried to consume Angel—take him over. It obviously didn't work."

"Good thing," Lorne quipped.

"Very good thing," Hope agreed, sitting down at the reception counter; her head felt so heavy that she rested her forehead on her open palm, her elbow on the counter itself.

"Care for some tea?" Wesley offered.

"Please."

Fred placed a hand on the back of the young woman, a helpful but helpless smile on her face, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Hope opened her eyes to see Fred, "How'd you—"

"Angel told me. I told them," Lorne filled in.

Content with that and too tired to argue the idea of privacy, Hope just nodded, "No, there isn't much you can do. I just need to rest. I doubt much is forthcoming," she admitted.

Gunn smiled, "No worries; that big ol' Firstie comes a knockin' we'll fend It off for ya'," he crossed his arms over his chest proudly.

Hope had to smile at that, "Thank you, Charles, but the First is immaterial. I'm the only one who could fend it off," she said with a tone of resignation, taking the fresh cup of tea offered her and walking out to the back patio garden, needing the fresh air and open space. The foursome behind her eyed her intently. It was strange to them all that she would be so down…so run out of energy. It wasn't like her at all.

Fred watched the double doors close behind her, "Should we try talking to her?"

Lorne took a quick sip of sea breeze, "I'll field this one, Freddicans," he said, placing the drink aside.

He walked out to see Hope sitting on the stone bench, sipping at the tea and pressing her palms against the hot ceramic cup.

"Hey there, sweet cheeks," he said cheerfully.

She smiled politely, "What can I do for you?" she asked.

He sat down beside her, "I was gonna ask what we could do for you. We can't help but notice you're just a little run down."

She shrugged, "It happens to everyone once in a while. I'm no different."

Lorne smiled, "All evidence to the contrary, of course. You know, I may not be able to do much, but I am connected to the higher powers. I could try to help if you let me," he offered.

Hope scoffed, "It's not about letting you help. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do to help."

Lorne remained silent.

"I'm not trying to sound condescending, but it's true. I have to fend for myself, Lorne. I always have. The offer is touching, however."

There was a long, grateful silence for a few moments. Lorne and Hope just eyed the sky, seeing what they could. The dark blue gave way to purple, the sun fading by the moment.

"I think I may go out for a while. Clear my head," Hope started, standing.

"Alone?" Lorne asked.

"Give this to Angel, will you? Tell him to meet me whenever he feels up to it," she handed him a piece of paper with some writing on it that she had materialized.

Lorne nodded.

With that, Hope left, walking out onto the street, the last rays of the sun making her radiant and golden.

* * *

Angel sighed and looked at the name Hope had given him. Walking across the grass and looking around the park for a sign of her, he noticed no one else was out. At last he saw her, sitting on a bench in the middle of a picnic area. She had her knees up to her chin, holding them close to her chest. She smiled, her eyes facing upwards to the sky.

"I'm glad you decided to join me."

"Lorne said you wanted to clear your head."

"Yeah. Looking at the stars always helps me."

He sat next to her, looking up and seeing a smattering of brilliance beyond thin clouds and light pollution, "Los Angeles isn't known for star gazing."

"No, it's not. But still, something's better than nothing. I feel connected in places like this," she brought her eyes down to view the vast park, "Like things are going the way they're supposed to."

"Aren't they?"

She saddened, "That attack on you…the First isn't going to rest until It gets what It wants. I know you were there earlier to help me out, but you won't always be."

"What makes you say that?"

"With everything I've seen and done, I've learned a lot. Like people leave. They always leave whether they want to or not. Some die. Some just up and go. Others estrange themselves and you swear they're not the same person you knew before."

"I won't leave you if I can help it."

She looked to him, "But I may have to leave you. You eavesdropped. You heard what the Old One said. And we both know how quickly life or unlife can change."

"Still, if I've learned anything, it's that people can surprise you; they can do some good things. And evil doesn't always pile up; we'll win eventually. There may not be any big battle, but I think they'll be a victory one day…if only for a short time."

"I remember being here when the earth was untouched by human hands. Trees grew so tall they seemed to disappear into the clouds. Waters ran with life and purity. And, for a while, the earth was a utopia. Even the purebred demons who ruled it left it unscathed. They would war time and again, but the earth was beautiful."

"I'd like to see that world."

"It may come back one day. When the First is finally defeated. When humans don't have a need for war or hate or weapons. When the stars are gemstones you can see in the billions in a black quarry. That's when my powers will be free."

"What about you? What about your utopia?"

"My body will be ash by then. I'll be long gone. But, there'll be a successor. And another after that and another after that. My progeny will be there. But I'll be gone."

"Why?"

"I'm not immortal. Eternal, yes, but not immortal. I've died before and will no doubt die again. It's only a matter of time before my body is broken and unable to be revived."

"How many times have you died?"

Silence for a moment, "Twice so far."

"I know the first one. The second?"

"I'd rather not…I'm sorry."

"No, that was personal. I shouldn't have asked."

"You have a right, I suppose. After all, you'll need to know at some point."

"When you're ready. Not before."

She smiled, "Thank you."

He looked back up at the stars and watched the clouds pass silently. Knowing Hope had died some time ago didn't make him any happier about having to fight the First without actually landing a punch. But, as he looked at the stars and at her, he saw a look of contentment. She was at peace for the moment.

* * *

Fred eyed the magazine mindlessly, not really soaking up any of the information. She couldn't stop thinking about what Lorne had said. Hope was weak. That in and of itself wasn't as disturbing to her as the matter of how she'd become so weak. She'd done it saving them. Hope had come in, stopped the demons, and healed them all. And still she fought.

"Fred?" Wesley asked as if he'd been repeating himself.

She looked up, "Huh?" she asked.

Wesley smiled, "I asked if you were hungry for leftovers," he offered her a plate of Chinese food.

She eyed it and just shook her head, "No, thanks, I'm not all that hungry."

Lorne and Gunn joined Wesley in eyeing Fred in pure astonishment.

"What are you and what have you done with Freddicans?" Lorne asked.

Fred smiled tiredly, "I know. I'm just not in the mood to eat," she said simply.

Wesley raised his eyebrows and set the plate down, "What's on your mind?"

She shook her head, closing the physics magazine, "I was just thinking about Hope. I kinda feel bad for her, you know? I mean, she's been around for so long…but now she's fighting for her life. As tough as it is for us, I don't know how she can stand it," she said.

The others seemed to absorb what Fred had said, a sadness coming over each of them.

"I mean, she's done so much for us since she came here. And we haven't really done that much to help her cope with having to fight on a constant basis."

Gunn sighed, "But how do we help a god? What are we compared to her?" he asked.

"What do you think we should do?" Wesley asked Fred.

Fred just sighed heavily, unsure of how to answer that.

The front double doors opened and Hope and Angel walked in. Fred immediately cheered up after seeing them come in together. She walked out from behind the counter and smiled warmly.

"Where were you guys?" she asked.

Hope smiled, "I went to the park. Just watched the stars. Just talked. I think I'll turn in for the night," she eyed Angel for a moment, then left his side and walked up to her room.

Once the door was closed, Fred walked up to Angel, "I need to ask you something," she started.

Angel, unsure of Fred's out-of-character approach, waited.

"Do you think we should all go out one night…to dinner? I mean, Hope deserves something for helping us all out and she barely eats anything besides doughnuts," she finished.

Angel nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure she'd appreciate that. Why?" he asked.

"We were just talking about how much change Hope has had to go through since she teamed up with us," Wesley spoke up.

Angel visibly relaxed about the topic, "Yeah. It's been hard on her. It's probably a good idea."

Gunn perked up, "I got a better idea," he smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Hope woke up to a wonderful aroma. She hadn't smelled the likes of it in centuries if not millennia. She sat up tiredly, looking around. Was she imagining that wafting scent? No. It came back full force. It was greasy and buttery. It had a crackle to it. Like the sound of oil in the heated pan. It tickled her nose, it was so forgotten and welcomed.

She dressed and went downstairs. She saw the source. The counter was laid out with a vast assortment of breakfast foods. There were eggs, bacon, sausage, honey-ham, waffles, toast and pancakes with a variety of toppings.

The doors to the kitchen opened and she could see the group making anther plate. Wesley walked out with a plate of scrambled eggs. He smiled.

"There you are. Thought you'd come down eventually."

Angel and the others walked out, too. Hope eyed the assortment and them, "What is all this?"

"Well, you have only had doughnuts the last week. Thought you'd like something different," Angel put a pitcher of grapefruit juice on the counter.

"Did you make all this this morning?" Hope asked.

"Angel made most of it...being the better cook of us all," Fred complimented.

"But Fred made the eggs," Wesley smiled, setting out large glasses and more pitchers of juice and some hot tea kettles

"Breakfast is served," Angel sat across from her, his blood already poured out. She pulled up a barstool to sit. Hope served herself a heaping plate of food, her nose still tickled by it all. Angel watched her eat the food they had made, feeling some warmth inside of him grow.

Hope eyed the others as they sat down and started to eat the massive meals in front of them, "So, what are we doing today?" she asked randomly.

"There's nothing really _to_ do," Wesley allowed.

Hope ate what was left on her plate, thankful for a real meal—a thing she hadn't had in a long time. As the others finished their meals, she just sat and waited, grateful for the moment's rest—another thing that didn't seem to be forthcoming.

She turned on her barstool to see the still-shattered atrium. She hadn't been well enough to fix it. But, for now, she decided she could. Her eyes glassed over, her irises becoming opal, and she watched as the shattered tiles and broken banisters were mended. The floor was antiquely perfect again.

Angel watched her work her magick. It was a unique sight to see, for sure; seeing a single person correct so much damage.

Once she was done, she turned back to her empty plate; she wasn't hungry for seconds, but she wanted to take in the time she had with her friends—take in that time that was so rare and precious.

A voice whispered to her.

Angel caught on, feeling the heightened anxiety in her. Her mind was racing with possibilities. She stood from the barstool and walked towards that voice she was hearing. It was strange, unknown…but familiar.

"Hope?" Fred asked.

Hope ignored her.

Angel stood and started to follow her, looking back at the others, silently telling them to stay in the atrium. He followed Hope as she walked to the basement door, descending the stairs. He watched her walk almost awkwardly, looking for something that she wanted to see, something that was calling to her.

She stopped suddenly, eyeing the air in front of her.

"Hope?" Angel asked.

"There's something here," she said, reaching out to touch what he could not see.

"What is it?"

"Something…powerful. Unknown. I can't feel it…but I can hear it."

Angel took a whiff of the air, trying to discern what it was she was sensing, "I don't smell anything.

Hope shook her head, "It's not in our reality—you couldn't smell it. It feels like a portal…a living portal at that."

"A living portal? They make those?" Angel asked sarcastically.

"Yeah. Portals that spring up on their own account—without being summoned or created," she explained.

"Oh," he replied, understanding.

Hope closed her eyes and tried to feel the portal's boundaries, trying to navigate what it was and what it was bringing forth. Her eyes opened spasmodically, her breath caught in her throat. She started to back away from the portal slowly, putting her arm out and bringing Angel with her. The entire time she kept her face to the living creation, unwilling to turn her back on it for fear that it could bring forth what she felt on the other side, the darker side. Angel just eyed her, not understanding the fear and anxiety he felt in her mind, not wanting to in some small way. If she was afraid of it, he knew it was bad. With a sudden conviction, Hope stopped, standing straight and materializing a broadsword and cavalry sword, handing the former to Angel.

"Don't let anything get past," she instructed.

Angel eyed her, then the portal, "What 'anything' are we talking about here?" he asked.

A robed Bringer ran through the portal, carrying the curved blade of its master. Hope waited until it was close, then dislodged its head from its shoulders with one swipe.

"That answer your question?"

"Yeah—why are they coming through a portal?"

"That's how they usually travel. Quicker than walking and they can't really drive."

As if the gates of hell had opened, Bringers rushed from the portal. In the confines of the sewer tunnel, Hope moved forward to give Angel room and to prevent her sword from injuring him.

Some Bringers got past her but she knew Angel could handle them. She swiped at the ones she could reach with ease, knowing the ones still emerging from the portal were dumb enough to keep running towards her and Angel.

She did what she had to, swinging the blade round her head to decapitate the Bringers nearest her. With a single round cut, she managed to take out the three nearest her. Behind her, Angel ran them through one by one, parrying their blows in between.

As if It knew the element of surprise was a complete loss, It called off the remaining Bringers, beckoning them back through the portal. With that, the hole was sealed and Hope smiled, grateful the altercation hadn't lasted very long.

She sighed, "Well, that was fun."

She felt Angel's hand on her shoulder and she turned to face him.

He kissed her, pinning her up against the wall.

At first shocked, she gave in and held onto his neck, running her fingers through his short hair. His lips left hers and she smiled.

"That was nice."

He nodded, his demonic face still on from the fight, "Yeah. It was."

Hope smiled and embraced him freely. He dropped his sword and held her close as she kissed him, his face and hers in no way resembling one another. Angel rammed Hope against the wall, Hope running her fingers over Angel's demonic face.

"You know, we really shouldn't."

"Humor me" Angel said, kissing her neck afterwards.

"The others will wonder where we went."

"Nah, they'll be fine."

Hope kissed Angel as his lips met hers; she reached up inside his shirt and placed her hands near his heart, her pulsating power coursing through him, "Why are we doing this?" she asked.

Angel shivered with her touch and her power, grabbing at her instinctually and pressing her harder against the sewer wall, "Doesn't it just feel right?"

"You hardly know me," Hope whispered as he continued to kiss her neck and shoulders

"It doesn't feel that way"

Hope gasped as his teeth raked her skin when he kissed her, "We can't."

"Not being near you...it kills me," he whispered to her.

Hope wrapped one of her arms around his chest, placing it on the backside of his heart and smiling as she felt him relax and shiver with the intense power she was running straight into it, "You're already dead."

Angel looked at her and smiled, not taking the comment harshly, "You can change that."

"Hope!" they heard Fred's voice echo in the sewers behind them.

Angel quickly released Hope and stood straight, bending over to pick up the sword he'd dropped. Hope smiled, eyeing him as he walked towards Fred's voice.

"Angel!" Gunn called out a moment later.

"We're here!" Hope replied loudly.

They rounded the bend in the tunnel to see the group with flashlights, "You guys all right?" Fred asked, eyeing the weapons.

Angel nodded, "Just a little sewer fight."

"With what?" Wesley asked.

Hope shrugged, "Just some Bringers. Didn't mean to scare you guys like that," she apologized.

* * *

Angel sat in his large chair, sighing heavily, "These Bringers just keep coming," he said tiredly.

"Well, your little cuddle-bug can take care of them," Lorne smiled warmly.

Angel eyed him.

Lorne shrugged it off, "Oh please. Think I couldn't tell what happened down in the sewer? The vibes were coming off the two of you like _Qa'pla_ comes off a Klingon."

Angel looked at nothing in particular, "It just happened. I didn't plan it that way."

The empathy demon smiled, "I know that and so does Hope. Now we just have to wonder why you feel that urge," he cocked an eyebrow.

Angel looked down at that, unable to come up with a good answer.

Lorne sat across from him, still smiling, "Angel Cakes, this girl could be your salvation. I know that's crossed your mind," he allowed.

"All the more reason I should be feeling this way about her."

"No one can deny pure, animal attraction…let alone demonic animal attraction."

"Is that all this is?"

"You tell me."

Angel stood, "I'm gonna go talk to Hope. I'll be back down later."

* * *

Angel didn't bother knocking. He didn't have to. Well, maybe he did, but he knew Hope wouldn't mind him not. He closed the door behind him, feeling the immense power her room seemed to have—that power sent a tingle down his spine.

He saw Hope standing with her back to him, eyeing the drawn curtains and seeing past them to the scenery.

"Hope?" he asked, walking closer to her.

She remained fixated on the view.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned quickly, her eyes flashing a bright blue, then returning to normal. She eyed him for a moment, smiling wanly.

"Angel?"

"Yeah—you okay?"

"I was just thinking."

He left it at that, knowing somehow that the topic wasn't one to be discussed. He sat on the corner of her bed, "Listen, I came up here to talk to you."

She smiled, "I figured as much."

"I'm sorry for what happened in the sewer. I didn't plan for that to happen," he allowed.

She sat next to him, "No. I don't suppose you did. But, it did and I'm not making any objections."

"You were there with me?"

She sighed, "It's confusing, sometimes, just being near you. I know I'm supposed to protect you…I didn't plan to feel this way."

"So what now?"

"We do what we have to. We'll fight the First."

"I mean about us."

"I don't know."

"So, any idea what to do about the First?"

"I'm gonna check the Higher Light. It might have some tidbits. Maybe you and the others could read up too. The more you know, the easier it is…in theory."

He nodded, "Okay. I'll get the research machine going."

"I'll be up here."

He walked from the room still feeling his skin vibrating from her closeness. Walking into the main atrium, he sighed.

"Angel?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah?"

"You all right?"

"Yeah. Hope suggested we do some more research on the First. Might make it easier to ignore It if It comes around."

"Of course."

Walking into his office and pulling several volumes from his shelf, he proceeded to sit at his chair and read. Some passages told of those who'd fallen victim to the First's haunting. He had almost been a statistic. Others told of a time when the First wasn't immaterial. One spoke of an epic battle between a champion and It. The champion had been female. It had to have been Hope.

She was really the only one out of all of them that could handle herself against It. Even he, for all his centuries of experience, was incapable. He was beneath her.

"Embrace that feeling," a haughty voice said to him.

Angel stood quickly and turned to face the newcomer. It was Michael. He just eyed the demigod for a moment.

"You're back."

Michael approached him, a cruel smile on his face, "Tell me this, Angel: can you give her what she needs? A family? A normal life? Can you even give her the support she needs when she faces the First?"

Angel backed away, wanting to keep a certain distance between himself and the demigod, "I'll do what I can. Why? Afraid she won't need you?"

Michael laughed, "No matter who she has on her side, she'll always need me. Will she always need you? How long do you think you can't keep her interested? A week? A month?"

"I care about her."

"Maybe you do. Maybe you're addicted to her. Either way. But you can't be what she needs. A man. A real man."

Somewhat wounded, Angel tried to appear confident, "I think Hope knows what she needs. It's up to her to choose."

With a sudden flash, Michael was directly in Angel's face, smiling again, "I'll tell you this only once, vampire: Don't flatter yourself—you're able to give her nothing. As such, she won't need you for long."

With that, Michael was gone.

Angel stood there, stunned that Michael had said what he'd said. Was he right? Did Hope really not need him?

* * *

Angel sat looking up at the stars. There wasn't much to see since the lights of the city polluted the once brilliant sky. And the thought of the sky saddened him. He remembered a time when he could see every star in the sky without the slightest of distractions. But, that time was not the time of now. It was long gone to him—as was almost everything else he'd known.

The others had gone home before the sun set. Research had given some small hints and tips, but nothing to make the fight easier. So, he'd left Hope alone to come up to the roof.

The door to the stairwell opened and Hope walked out.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Nothing, evidently. There're not many stars out tonight."

"You seem a little down...what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You should know better than to lie to me."

"Michael came to me earlier."

Hope inhaled deeply, "Oh. I guess that didn't go too well."

Angel shook his head, "I was just thinking...about what Michael said to me. About how right he is."

"About what?"

"About how I can never really give you anything to live by."

"And you think he's right?"

Angel looked at her tiredly, "I can't give you a home, I can't give you a family...I can't even give you a normal life."

Hope sighed, "There're some things even Michael doesn't know about me. I can't have children," she said slowly.

Angel's brow creased, "I...I don't understand—you're a goddess."

Hope looked down at the street below, "I became a goddess at fourteen. My body hadn't completely developed yet. Once my powers were bestowed upon me, my body never really underwent any other major change. It matured physically, yes—but not chemically. I'm still a girl—not a woman."

She looked back up at him, a saddened smile on her face, "Being a goddess is a full time job. I wasn't meant to be a mother."

"I'm sorry...I didn't realize that."

"It's not your fault. It was one of the conditions I accepted when I took the position. So, you don't need to feel inadequate. The things you can't offer me are the things I can never have...with or without you."

She paused, then looked at him again, "Does that help at all?"

He nodded, "Strangely…yeah."

"Okay. Don't stay out here too long."

He watched her walk back to the stairwell entrance and felt the same heat he'd felt in the sewer rise up again. He stood quickly and came up beside her. The Hyperion was quiet. Coming back from the rooftop, Angel and Hope stopped outside her room. She kissed him again. He grabbed at her back, keeping her lips against his.

He felt her calmness and peacefulness in the back of his mind and he let it overcome him. He embraced her tightly and ran his hand along her side, feeling her shiver as he hit her ticklish spot. She smiled quickly, then reached up under his shirt and gently traced a line across his abs, causing him to emit a stifled chuckle.

Hope smiled, "I should get to bed. Long day and all," she said lamely, knowing it was lame, and started to open her door.

"I'll walk you to your room," Angel offered, following her.

"We're already at my room."

The two of them stared at one another, Hope feeling the pull of his body on hers. A warmth curled up inside her and she felt her heart beat faster with his presence. Angel swallowed hard, knowing what he wanted but fearful of taking it—even with Hope's obvious willfulness.

"You know, maybe I should get going...I'm tired," Hope said, focusing on Angel's eyes.

He nodded slowly, mindlessly, "Yeah...you should," he felt her lips against his, brushing them and tantalizing him. Their lips locked. And Hope led them into her room, walking backwards and guiding Angel with her kiss. He closed the door behind them.

Angel felt Hope's body pressed against his as they kissed. She wrapped her hands around his waist, taunting him. He could feel her chest against his, he could feel her heartbeat.

He broke from her seductive kiss, "You know I can't."

She ran her fingers over his covered chest, "Take a chance."

"Hope…"

"Trust me. I can control the curse."

Angel resisted kissing her as her lips came so close to his own, "I don't want to hurt you," he said, knowing the situation that could come to pass.

"You won't. I promise."

His hands held her close to him—one on her neck, the other on her waist. He could feel her pulse surging under his fingers.

And while he was holding her, she was unbuttoning his shirt.

He felt something take a hold of him and a snarl echoed from his throat. He backed away from Hope, knowing he'd given in. He looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

Hope took his demonic face in his hands, "For what?"

"I didn't mean to—"

"It's not your fault, Angel. Why are you ashamed of it?" she looked him in the eyes.

"Can you love this face?"

Hope kissed him, despite the fangs. Then she looked at him deeply.

"Hey, I'm flattered...and lucky," she smiled.

"Why?"

"How many girls can say they're dating a two-hundred-fifty year old who doesn't need Viagra?" she kissed him again before he could really react to her jest.

And he let himself give over completely to her. He knew they both wanted this, and he wasn't about to argue. She gasped as he started to kiss her neck and was unable to control himself—his newly arrived fangs gently and firmly raking against her flesh and drawing a small amount of blood that he let tantalize him—he didn't drink for fear it would be too irresistible. And a small part of him recoiled, knowing what he'd just done—and he waited for her to back away in fear.

She didn't. In fact, she grabbed at him—bringing him closer than he'd been and kissing his own neck and nibbling at his ear, restraining her own demonic instincts.

He kissed her again, fangs and all, letting his hands slide her straps off her shoulders and feeling her bare skin next to his. He cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her, her hands unbuttoning his shirt and gently pushing it off his shoulders so only the sleeves held it on. She pushed him downwards slightly, making him sit on the edge of the bed. He took his hands away from her for a longing moment and removed his shirt the rest of the way, throwing it aside. He helped her pull her top off, then pulled her closer to him and started to kiss her smooth shoulders, her hands on his neck and back, her energy and power surging into him. The two of them moved back farther onto the bed, lying down and still intertwined.

He felt her right hand on his chest, teasing him and sending pure electric to his dead heart. He gasped as her power flooded into him, reaching ever fiber of his being. She curved herself down to kiss his bare chest, her left fingers playing with his ticklish spot and making him squirm. He grabbed her again, kissed her full on the lips, and rolled over onto her, her right hand still connected to his chest and fueling his need for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Angel awoke to feel a searing sting. He opened his eyes with a start and a painful groan and saw his hand smoking. Hope's eastward-facing room was allowing in deadly rays as the sun rose above the other buildings. He moved to shut the blinds, did so, and then actually realized he was doing so.

He'd made it through the night.

With the commotion, Hope rolled out of the bed and yelped as she hit the floor. Angel stood there for a moment, dazed, and wrapped the comforter over himself.

"Hope?"

She reached up for the sheet and looked over the bed to see him standing there. She looked around for a moment, wrapping the sheet around her torso clumsily.

"Angel?"

"Yeah. Me."

"Not Angelus."

"No. Me."

"Oh, good."

"Are you okay?"

She stood with the sheet around herself, "Yeah. Just startled."

"Why startled?"

"Kinda thought it was a dream…last night."

"Oh, well, yeah. I guess you would."

"Huh?"

"Well, you're five and a half million years old…what could I do that would be new…"

"Actually, I'm a virgin…at least I was until last night."

"Oh. So…oh."

"Yeah."

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

"We should get dressed before the others get in."

"We really should."

Angel looked around for his thrown about clothes. Pulling them on, he watched her do the same. She was quiet. And, as she dressed, she let the sheet down from her body. He watched her for a moment. The curves. Her spine. The way her shoulder blades were highlighted against shadow and muscle. She pulled on the clothes that hugged her so perfectly in all the right places. He looked away as she cleared her throat.

Her mind raced about the unity of last night. In five and a half million years, she had never been physical with anyone. Not even Michael. It had been different as a goddess. There was no need for a physical body. But this was more than physicality. Just as she and Michael had been united soul for soul, her demon and Angel's demon had been the tie that bound them. Could she live with that demon lust? Could she forgive herself for that?

Angel sidled up behind her and gently kissed her neck. She smiled warmly.

She would learn to live with it.

She turned to face him, realizing what she was letting happen. She tried to put on a smile.

"I think I'll take a shower."

He nodded unsurely, "Yeah. I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

Wesley walked in and saw Angel sitting at the counter, not looking at anything in particular. Putting the box of doughnuts aside, he walked up next to his friend. Angel barely paid him any mind.

"Thinking?"

Angel finally noticed him, "Oh. Hey. Yeah."

"What about?"

Angel looked down, "Nothing."

"Angel."

He shrugged, "It's nothing."

"You've never been one for lying."

"I'm not. I just…"

"Is it about Hope?"

"Yeah."

"What about her?"

Angel sighed, "We…we slept together."

Wesley paused, "In the non-sleeping capacity?"

Angel glared at him.

"Ah. And you're upset about it?"

"I don't think it was right."

"Do you love her?"

His brow furrowed and he kept his eyes focused inward.

"Angel…whatever you're feeling, it's not wrong. She is a very attractive woman. And the influence she has on you is understandable."

Hope screamed.

Angel and Wesley spared one another a glance, then shot up the stairs towards her room. Angel was the first to reach it, taking one giant demonic leap up to the scaffolding outside her hallway. He knocked her door inwards and stopped when he saw her lying on the floor, passed out, and covered in blood.

He kneeled at her side, eyeing the room quickly and seeing no sign that anything had been there. But, he knew, the First wouldn't have left a trail.

"What happened?" Wesley asked, just coming in and standing behind Angel.

Angel picked up Hope and cradled her, using one hand to gently pat her cheeks, "I don't know. Get some water, will you?" he asked, sparing a glance at his friend.

Wesley walked quickly into Hope's bathroom; the mirror was still steamed from her shower and some water from the leaky showerhead dripped down into the bathtub. One quick glance to the bathtub caught his attention.

"Angel," he said slowly.

"What?" Angel didn't spare a glance as he wrapped her bloodied body in a towel.

"I think you should see this," Wesley continued, trying to keep his hands steady.

Still carrying Hope, Angel eyed the bathroom; he followed Wesley's gaze to see that the bottom of the tub was filled with blood.

Angel looked down at Hope and was somewhat relieved that she wasn't wounded. But the blood he smelled belonged to her.

"Dear God, what happened?" Wesley said somewhat inaudibly.

Angel started to back away from the scene, Wesley coming with him.

"Do you think something attacked her?" Wesley asked.

Angel just shook his head.

Hope convulsed and yelped, clutching for anything. Angel nearly fell as she regained consciousness.

"Hope!" he said strongly, trying to calm her down.

Her frantic eyes met his and she grabbed at him, burying her face into his chest and crying. He held her tightly, rubbing her back.

"Shh. It's okay."

"I was so scared," she admitted, her voice muffled.

"Of what?" he asked.

"I saw it again. That nightmare. I saw you die and I could only watch."

"You were out cold," Wesley pointed out.

She cried harder, grasping at Angel's shirt tightly and wrinkling it. He kissed her forehead and let her down onto the bed, trying to gently tear himself away from her. He sat next to her, keeping her hands in his.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It came. I fought It. Then It made me see that again. The water turned to blood," she admitted, looking at her crimson skin.

"The First was here?" Wesley asked.

She nodded, keeping her eyes on Angel, "It was so real. And I couldn't stop It."

"Whatever the nightmare is, we'll face it. We all will. Relax," Angel tried to soothe her, rubbing her back gently. And she just cried into his shoulder all the more.

* * *

"How is she?" Wesley asked, sitting on the couch. Fred, Gunn and Lorne had come just a while before, not knowing what had transpired until Wesley filled them in.

Angel sighed, coming down the stairs, "Better. Finally stopped crying," he admitted.

"What did she see that made her so upset?" Fred asked.

Angel sat tiredly on the other couch, "She's been having this nightmare. In it, she kills me—or something that looks like her kills me."

"But if it's just a nightmare, why is she so upset? Not like it'll come true," Gunn pointed out.

"She doesn't know if it's a vision or a dream. Can't tell. If she can, she hasn't told me either way."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Lorne asked.

"Doesn't look like it right now," Angel rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Fred cleared her throat. They all followed her gaze to see Hope coming down the stairs, hair and makeup in check. She smiled wanly, trying to hide her earlier dilemma.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" Gunn asked.

"Better. Thanks. Although my door's pretty much shot," she allowed, looking to Angel for a moment.

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"No worries."

"I thought the Fedoin would keep the First away?" Wesley asked.

"In the bedroom. Not the bathroom."

"Is there somewhere safer? Somewhere It can't get to you?" Fred looked between her and Wesley.

She nodded, "Yeah, I have an apartment uptown."

"I don't think you being alone is a good idea," Angel said.

"I think it'll be good for all of us if I move into a place of my own. Maybe the First will leave you all alone."

"But you'll be all alone," Angel reiterated.

"No one said you couldn't come over."

"Where is the apartment?" Fred asked, smiling.

"Fifteen minutes from here. Why don't we go see it?" she asked, cheerier than a moment before.

"Sounds like a nice little road trip," Fred smiled.

Hope shook her head, "No roads required."

* * *

The six of them found solid footing on a carpeted floor, the blinds drawn and the deadly sun deflected. The apartment was more of a penthouse. The kitchen was divided from the living room by a partial wall that had a serving bar cut into it. The living room already had furniture in it: a leather couch and recliner and a mirror-made entertainment center. The kitchen was fully equipped with all the amenities and had marble-tiled floor space.

"Come see the bedrooms," Hope lead them towards the kitchen; out of view, there were three doors. She walked into the one farthest from the entrance.

"My bedroom," she explained; the next and middle door was the guest bedroom and the last door was the guest bathroom.

"How much is the rent?" Angel asked.

Hope shrugged, "Almost two thousand a month."

"And of course you can afford it," Gunn smiled.

"No one said I was actually having to pay the rent. But it is nice. Well worth the money I'm _not_ spending."

"Well, we know where to spend the night if anything happens," Lorne smiled.

"Complete with sewer access and underground garage, balcony and view of the city," Hope added while walking into the kitchen, "Anyone hungry or thirsty?"

They all sat down at the large wooden dining table and let Hope wait on them. They all sat and enjoyed the hominess of the penthouse. Hope got herself a glass of wine and sat with them, comfortable in her most familiar surroundings.

"Gal like you must have holdings all over the world," Gunn smiled, taking a drink of his beer.

"Just about. This is the smallest one I have—the hotel room notwithstanding."

"Where are the others?" Fred asked, intrigued.

"Barcelona, Galway, Beijing, Papua New Guinea, Rhodes in Greece…all over the world," she trailed off.

"It must be nice to have that choice. To go anywhere and do anything," Fred droned.

"I'd find it somewhat overwhelming. To control all of that property," Wesley sighed.

"Oh, I have people control it for me. Some of my property in Europe remains with the royal families there as vacation homes. They throw old-fashioned balls and dances. If nothing is happening, I'll make time to attend."

"Amazing. Who knew the goddess had culture with everything else?" Lorne smiled, raising his glass to her.

Hope smiled, "Why don't you guys watch some television. I never really get a chance to. I have some video game systems," she added.

"Like what?" Gunn asked eagerly.

"Some stuff that ain't even on the market yet," she smiled.

Gunn, Fred, Lorne and Wesley walked over to the large plasma TV and turned it on, the gaming system next. Hope smiled at Gunn's enthusiasm. She looked across the table at Angel.

He was looking at his mug of blood and somehow felt her gaze on him. They met each other's gaze for a moment. She tried to smile but it came off as an awkward plea.

"Hope…"

"We don't need to talk about it."

He paused, "I kinda think we do."

"Why? You've been there before."

"Because it was with you. It was…"

"Amazing."

He eyed her, "Really?"

She looked down, "But it wasn't the right thing to do."

"You were there with me."

"I was. But as amazing…we shouldn't indulge ourselves. We have responsibilities."

He straightened, "Okay."

He left the table. Hope didn't watch him go. Fred saw him stalk off. She looked back to Hope and stood from the couch with the others. She sat across from her, still looking at the door Angel had exited through.

"Where'd he go?"

"He needed something at the hotel," Hope said quickly.

"Oh. You okay?"

"Fine. Better, anyway."

Fred smiled warmly, "Good."

* * *

Angel sighed. He was trying to figure out just what to expect from Hope. She was right; the night before had been amazing. Her power had run its course and made him feel, be, alive. It was more stimulating, more intoxicating, than anything he'd ever felt. But he hadn't lost his soul. She'd said she could control it. She had. If it hadn't been her, Angelus would be free; of that he had no doubt.

But her reaction…

She wanted to give in again. But she was right. They'd crossed a line. They'd given in to the most primal and carnal desires. They'd let themselves go and now it was time to come back. They couldn't do it again. But he couldn't be near her. He'd found his way to the Hyperion from the basement of her building. He had to have some time alone. The heat in his gut wouldn't stop. The aftermath of her power wouldn't stop nagging him. He had to get away, if only for a little while. Retreating to his wonderfully secluded suite, he closed the door and sat in the large black recliner near the corner of his bedroom.

His sensitive ears caught a sound. He stood from his comfortable seat and walked towards the main room, where he'd heard it come from. He stopped short upon seeing the curtains wide open and a large blaze of sun coming down in front of him. He doors to his balcony were open and the breeze came through them, blowing the curtains as it went.

He started to step around the patch of deadliness.

Something hit him. He fell forward, his hand landing in the sun. He cursed inaudibly and turned onto his back, his face having changed over in pain. He looked up to see Bringers. He threw his weight forward and landed on his feet, trying to get a head start. He turned in a circle, seeing that Bringers surrounded him. He knew the blow was coming before it hit and he tried to block it. As he did, another one came down on his shoulder.

He heard the bone crack and he stifled a yelp. The Bringer wielding the morning star lifted it again for another blow. Angel fell back trying to dodge it and found himself walking into another sharp ounce of pain; a Bringer behind him lodged a sword into his back, the blade coming out in front under his ribcage. Angel gasped, blood coming up his throat and out of his mouth. The Bringer wielding the mace seemed to smile with those sewed-shut eyes and landed the mace on Angel's cheek, knocking him sideways.


	10. Epilogue

A/N: This is the end of this "book". The next one will be published as "War Pains". I hope to see you all there and thanks for the positive feedback. Any overall reviews would be greatly appreciated.

Next up: **War Pains** by BrowncoatGrl


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